Glass
by Iikku The Eyebrow Master
Summary: Arthur and his siblings have always lived in scum. One night and everything they have shatters. A new enviroment provides its challenges; for Arthur, it's the Frenchman next door. Atleast Francis doesn't treat him like his made of glass. Rated M for all the reasons you can think of. FrUK, various other pairings.
1. Claws in my brain

**This was supposed to be a huge oneshot, but it's too big in the end. I broke it into a few chapters.**

**And the names: Jett=Australia, Sydney=New Zealand, Carlos Torres=Cuba. Lydia is an OC. Sydney is here a tomboy, since their sex is not revealed and it fits. It's a FrUK story, but it proceeds SLOWLY.**

* * *

Something shattered, probably a plate. Screaming and shouting followed soon after, horrible words were used. Arthur wished his siblings would not wake up because of the noise, he didn't want them to hear any of this. It was two in the morning, time for small children to be asleep. Time for everyone to be asleep, really, but not in their household. Their mum and her current boyfriend, Steve, were fighting again. About drugs, of course. Their mother believed Steve had lost some of her heroin, and to avenge she had used his coke. It had turned into a violent argument where no words or no force were held down.

They were probably a high, too.

He hated Fridays.

Arthur had pressed his mattress against their bedroom door ro muffle the sounds and was now leaning against it, sitting on the floor. The selfmade-muffler worked quite well, fortunately. Some of the words were still audible, but they wouldn't wake you if you were asleep. Well, atleast that what he kept telling himself.

Another plate shattered.

He ran his hand through his hair, making the usual messiness even more so. His younger siblings seemed to be unaware of the situation outside the room. Sydney had kicked her blanket off was clinging to Jett who snored quietly. Alfred had managed to hog Sydney's blanket and now had two, including his own, and was drooling a little-

Oh.

Matthew just pretended to be asleep. His eyes were shut, but every time a loud noise was heard he flinched. Arthur sighed and moved next to the younger blonde after making sure the mattress wouldn't fall.

"Matthew", he called out the name quietly.

Two purple eyes appeared out from the dark.

"Yeah?" Matthew's voice was barely audible, even more so than usual.

"Are you scared?"

A small nod. Arthur placed his hand on Matthew's head, ruffling the wawy hair gently and began his reassuring speech.

"Don't worry, soon mum will kick Steve out and then it will quiet down. In a few days she will be fine and then she will take us to eat ice cream and play in the park and other fun things, that's going to be great, right Then she will dedicate her life to us and this will not happen ever again."

Arthur didn't even remember how many times he had said the same thing. He had lost count years ago. He was 15, too old to believe his own words, he knew mum would say the same things but after two weeks she would find another man and start the drugs again and do the same thing all over again, but it seemed to calm down the younger ones.

A plate shattered. Arthur continued.

"Just wait, this will be over in a few minutes, just don't listen to them, pretend they aren't there-"

Steve called her a filthy slut who is covered in STDs.

"-just forget them, it's just you and me and Alfred and Jett and Sydney alone here, safe and sound-"

Their mother called him by horrible names, and Arthur covered Matthew's ears.

"-don't listen to any of that, just close your eyes and ears and breathe, we're going to be alright-"

Something hit the wall with a loud thump, followed by Steve's curses. Arthur saw Sydney move, and soon her eyes were open, sleepy but slowly growing aware of what was happening. The youngest of the bunch sat up, searching for someone to comfort and protect her, and quickly located Arthur. She whimpered silently and crawled beside him, clinging to Arthur with her right hand and covering her other ear with the left.

"-we're going to be alright, ignore the noises, it will be over soon-"

Steve threatened to kill her.

"-just don't listen, _don't listen_-"

Arthur was certain he was going to die soon if the screaming wouldn't stop.

"-it will be over soon-"

Their cries mixed to a mess of words, impossible to understand. Sydney pressed against Arthur's chest and Matthew tightened his grip on his blanket.

"-it will be over soon-"

A new noise entered the act. This one had payed a few rare visits in the past, and it always made Arthur's heart skip a few beats.

Sirens, accompanied by flashing blue lights.

A neighbour had called the police.

The fight paused for a few seconds, only to be continued rougher then before. Their mother told Steve to help her hide and get rid of the stuff, Steve told her to shut up and get lost before the cops come in. Insults were thrown, then a shatter followed and their mum screaming again, this time it was audible.

"No! Don't you dare to leave me here alone! Steve! You son of a bitch! Bastard! Don't fucking jump out of the window- STEVE! Don't leave me!"

Steve had fled. Swears were heard, then quick-paced footsteps when their mother ran to find her drugs and flush them down the toilet, accompanied by sobs and curses. Arthur swallowed. His heart was beating fast now.

Alfred and Jett were moving uncomfortably as if they were to wake up. Great, that was all he needed. Sydney was crying.

"Don't leave this room. Just stay here, alright? Don't follow me", Arthur said and stood up, gently pushing the youngest off. Her cheeks were teary. Jett was now sitting, eyes confused and hair messy. He didn't say a word; he could put the pieces together by himself already. Alfred blinked a few times.

Arthur moved the mattress from the door and stepped out, finding their mother from the bathroom opposite to their room, door open. The skinny woman was knelt over the toilet, trying to flush the bags of white powder down. She noticed Arthur and looked at him in despair. Her eyes were wild.

"Artie dear, help me! You have to help or the cops will get me, you don't want that do you? Help me Artie!" she cried and put her other hand into the toilet, trying to push the drugs down. Water splashed on her clothes.

It was a terrible sight to see, even if that wasn't the first time. Their mother, desperate, pitiful, dirty, afraid, trying to get rid of the evidence. When Arthur was younger, he had told himself she did it because she wanted to try, she didn't want to go to prison because of her children, she wanted to be the mother she never had been because she really loved them, she would choose them over the drugs. He had clung to that thought for years, and helped her to dispose the evidence and flee, yet every time this happened it ate a piece of it, little by little. He had been disappointed so many times, every time it was harder, every time he loved his mother less when he saw her make the same goddamn mistakes every time, make the same empty promises afterwards.

Footsteps echoed in the stairs, making her panick even more.

"Arthur! Help me! Fucking help me! Don't you leave me too! Arthur!"

Arthur didn't move. Her sad excuse of a ponytail had failed and the free-flowing brown hair was wet now too as she continued her miserable attempt of getting rid of the powder. The floor of the bathroom had puddles formed around her. One of the bags had been torn and a small cloud of heroin floated above the sight. She was sweating, breathing heavily.

"Arthur!"

A loud knock on the door.

"This is the police! Open the door or we will break in!"

"Arthur!" her voice was a high-pitched cry.

He was fed up with the disappointment.

"I am bloody tired of saving you for nothing."

The police kicked the door in. Sydney had ran to Arthur and was hugging his leg, sniffing violently. Matthew, Jett and Alfred were behind him, faces white. They stood in the door way, looking at their mother who still tried to save herself. Two policemen came and grabbed her, dragging her out of the apartment. She kicked and screamed and begged her children to save her, receiving nothing but a few shocked "mums".

Two more police came to the siblings, escorting them out of the building.

Arthur realised, this was it. They had caught her. She was gone. They were now at the mercy of the system.

He didn't know if he should've been sad or happy.

They saw Steve outside the apartment block, handcuffed and being pushed into the police car while he yelled out insults and lies of him having done nothing. Their mother was getting cuffed as well, though she resisted quite a bit more, still screaming her head off, swearing and crying out for Arthur to save her.

All this time, he was in a sort of high, unable to respond with his body to what was happening. All he could think of was to keep his siblings together. He was holding Sydney's hand, Matthew and Alfred had each others in their grips, and Jett was walking close to Arthur, still sleepy and confused.

"My babies! No, don't take them away from me! My children, no, not my children! Don't do this, Syd, Jett, Alfie, Mattie, Artie, no! Don't take them away!" she shrieked as the police put her in the vehicle and shut the door. She pressed her face against the window, still screaming even though no one could hear her. Alfred looked like he wanted to go off and run to rescue her.

"Where are they taking mom? Is she going to jail? Are they going to shoot her?" he asked in fear, fighting the tears that were forming in the corners of this eyes.

"Artie what's happening?" Jett grabbed his sleeve. Arthur opened his mouth to answer before he realised he didn't know what to say. He wasn't given any time to think when some police officer separated Jett and him and began to guide Alfred, Matthew and Jett on another direction. He stopped and grabbed the police.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?!"

"We must separate you, you will meet soon again, now follow officer Miles there-"

"Separate us?! What the bloody hell are you thinking?! You can't do that-"

"Please, just follow our instructions and all will be fine-"

"Fuck you and your instructions, I am not going to leave my brothers! You can't do this!"

Another police came out of nowhere and took his brothers away. Alfred cried out his name. Arthur was about to run after them but the police he had been talking to stopped him by grabbing his arm. Sydney cried, telling the police leave them alone. Then she tried to run after the others herself, but another officer picked her up and walked towards another car. Arthur was dragged the same way. He tried to wiggle off the police's grip, but the man was too strong for the skinny teen. All he could do was to scream out their names. He was placed into the backseat of the police car with Sydney, who instantly clinged to him. Arthur wrapped his arms around the sobbing child, trying to calm her down even if he couldn't even calm himself.

* * *

The siblings were reunited at the social worker's office, even if briefly. Alfred and Sydney were sobbing the entire time, Matthew and Jett controlled themselves just a bit better, sniffing and wiping tears from their eyes as they sat on the blue plastic chairs in the corner. Arthur did his best at telling everything was going to be fine, avoinding any questions that had to do with their mother. Just when he was about to convince them things were going to be okay, he was asked to go to one of the rooms for "a few questions". He swallowed, knowing it would take a good while.

"Just a moment", he said, turning to his siblings. They were looking at him, fearing the worst. Alfred named the fear.

"Are they going to take you too?" he asked, voice trembling. Arthur shook his head.

"No no no, it will take only while, I will be back soon."

"Promise?"

"Promise, don't you worry about a thing. Alfred, you're the hero, right?"

The blonde boy nodded.

"So be a hero and protect your siblings, okay? Matthew will help you. Just stay together, and I will be back as soon as I can."

They nodded in agreement and Arthur stood up, placing Sydney who had been in his lap on his seat. He gave her a small kiss on the forehead and murmured reassuring things to them, then turned around and walked to the woman who had asked him. She lead him to a room, then left for her other tasks.

In the room there was a desk, another blue plastic chair and a social worker. He was a dark man with dreadlocks and a belly, a hawaiian shirt under his jacket.

"Hello Arthur. Please, sit down", he said with a heavy foreign accent, smiling kindly. Arthur didn't answer the smile, he just walked to the chair and sat, anxious to leave already. The man quickly glanced some papers he had on his desk, then looked at Arthur.

"My name is Carlos Torres, you can call me Carlos. It's nice to meet you, Arthur."

No respond was received. The man sighed, and opened some folder. He browsed through the pages and then found the list he was looking for.

"This is the list of crimes your mother has committed in the past. There's mild drug use, possession of various drugs and some shoplifting there. I presume there is more than that, yes?"

"Yes."

"Could you name some?"

Arthur sifted, avoiding eye contact. He began listing what he could remember.

"Selling drugs, once in a while prostitution, fighting with anyone who looked at her the wrong way, vandalism, stealing anything she could, blackmailing, lying to the police...", he swallowed, "beating us..."

"She beat you?"

"Sometimes. Usually just me and Alfred, sometimes Jett and Matthew. Sydney was usually safe, but in some rare cases she was hit too", Arthur said, remembering the bruise Sydney was given six months ago when their mother was short on heroin and had snapped. It made him sick.

"Did her boyfriend beat you?"

"Which of them? The current or the past ones?"

"Let's start with the current."

"Yes. Only once or twice. Alfred was too loud, he thought, and hit him. I tried to defend him and got hit."

"I see. How about the other boyfriends?"

"It's pretty much the same story everytime, sometimes it's just Jett who is loud or Matthew who looks them weird."

It surprised Arthur, how he just let all those things he had guarded for ages out. He had always assumed it would be emotionally difficult.

Of course, his mind and body didn't cooperate at the moment. Everything had happened so fast he couldn't follow.

"I see. How about your father-"

"Fathers. We all have different fathers, except Matthew and Alfred."

Carlos glanced the papers.

"Oh yes. But...they too have different last names."

"Yeah, that's an interesting story. I don't quite remember how it went, I was five when mum met their fathers. They were twins, too, and she fucked both of them. The other one is the father, no one knows which one. But to get as much money as she wanted, she gave them different last names. So there you have Matthew Williams and Alfred Jones."

"But if the men are twins..."

"Both were married, and the other had taken his wife's last name. They payed mum to keep quiet so their marriages wouldn't shatter", Arthur explained. Carlos looked at him a surprised look on his face. Well, anyone who heard the story did so.

"Well, anyhow", Carlos continued, "your fathers. Do you know where they are?"

Arthur shook his head. "Last time I saw mine was when I was two. Jett's father stayed with us for a while, but left when Jett was six months old, and we never found out who Sydney's father his. That's why she has mum's last name."

Carlos nodded, processing what he had heard.

"Any relatives you have?"

"Mum has an older sister. Her name was Lisa or Lianne or something like that...Lucy? No, it was Lydia. Lydia. But the last I heard from her was when I was four. Mum had a fight with her and hasn't been in contact ever since."

The questions just seemed to come and come, Arthur didn't even bother to remember them. He answered fast and simple, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. Carlos noticed this, and tried to ask questions that would cover a lot. Or maybe that was just how he did his job.

Time that seemed to take years was only an hour. Carlos had found out what he needed and released Arthur. Immeaditely the blonde went to his siblings, and was pleased to find out Sydney and Jett sleeping. Alfred's face seemed to beam when he saw Arthur and he ran to his big brother, hugging him tight.

"I missed you Art! It was scary without you!"

"Now now", he ruffled his hair, "you're the hero, right? You can cope even without me. You took care you Matthew and Jett and Sydney, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"See, you were just fine. I knew you could do it."

Alfred's bright blue eyes met Arthur's green ones. There was a glint of hope there, accompanied by fear.

"Will mom be here soon?"

* * *

Still at the social worker's office, Alfred and Matthew had joined Sydney and Jett in dreamland. The four of them were dozing on the green couch in the lobby in one pile. Arthur was standing outside catching some fresh air and banish the nausea he was feeling.

The city was awfully quiet at night. It was only five in the morning, so naturally it was quiet. Arthur just wasn't used to the silence. The fight seemed to ring in his ears all over again.

What more, he was afraid. He didn't want to show it to his siblings, but he was truly horrified. He didn't know if things were to get better. They might end up to a horrible foster family, or even worse, be separated completely. He didn't want that, he just wished they could get a nice little flat somewhere and live alone without mum and her junkie friends and boyfriends and drug dealers and pimps and rapists and whatelse. All the scum.

It didn't make him better to know he was a son of scum.

He didn't know if they could handle the new way of life. Their mother was a goner now, for sure. She'd go to jail and be there for a while. That would leave Arthur and his siblings alone for real. Sure, they were pretty alone when mum was high or gone missing or with her love of the life of the moment or any other situation, but it was still different. Because there were times when she wasn't high or missing or dating or doing anything illegal, there were times when she tried and promised to stop and be a mother and did so, she cooked and took them to parks and played with them and hugged and kissed them and told them she loved them, and it was wonderful and made Arthur smile and feel normal and happy and think maybe this time, this time this might continue, they could have a real mother forever, but it never last. There wasn't that feeling of normal and happy, it wasn't there anymore. There wasn't a mother to make him feel that way.

They were just alone.

And they were to be known as the kids who don't have a mother, or the kids whose mother is in jail, _the poor little angels, _even if they weren't like that, no, they were anything but that. Arthur had a horrible temper, he swore, he was mean and sarcastic and cold, he didn't make friends. Alfred and Matthew lived in symbiosis, if they weren't together Alfred couldn't concentrate and got in trouble, if Matthew didn't have Alfred no one seemed to notice him until he grew angry and made some damage. Jett was too curious and energetic and sometimes said things adults didn't want to hear and ate things that were not supposed to be eaten, and Sydney was like a boy, unable to make friends with the girls but too fragile to be with the boys so she was with herself and got in trouble.

So they were always the weird kids with shady background and no love or discipline.

Arthur wanted to cry but he knew he couldn't. Last time he had cried was when he was ten and his mother's boyfriend at that time, Mark, had hit him so he had been slammed against the wall and when he looked at his mother she said 'Mark has a headache and you were loud, honey'. He had run into the bathroom and shred tears, muffling the sounds with a towel. Matthew had found him and the shock in his eyes was horrifying, to see his great strong big brother cry. There he had promised himself he wouldn't cry anymore, he wanted Alfred and Matthew and Jett and Sydney to think he could protect them.

He felt sick.

More to that, he knew they would end up to live either in an orphanage or something like that or at a complete stranger's place. They didn't know a single person who didn't use drugs or didn't commit crimes or wasn't just a shady character except for their teachers, and unfortunately the teachers didn't like them. They had no one.

He felt even sicker.

The door opened, Carlos stepped out and stood beside Arthur. He looked at the teen, nodded and put his hand in his pocket. A carton of cigarettes and a lighter were pulled out. Carlos took one and lit it, then took in a long smoke. Arthur watched him, all the time.

God, it had been a long time since his last smoke.

Carlos' brown eyes met Arthur's and he offered him a cigarette. Arthur raised an eyebrow, making the man roll his eyes.

"Oh come on, you've been through some deep shit, I think you deserve one."

Hesitantly Arthur took one and Carlos lit it up. Arthur inhaled, remembering again the relaxing wonders of smoking, and exhaled.

Dammit he loved it.

Carlos didn't say anything for a while, neither did Arthur, they were too busy with filling their lungs with tar. Then the older man dropped the paper roll and stepped on it.

"We were able to get it contact with your aunt."

"Really?"

"She was making cookies at the time we called her. We explained the situation to her. She said she would be more than willing to take you under her wings."

Arthur looked at Carlos, confused.

"Why was she baking biscuits at five in the morning?"

* * *

**Yeah, no Francis in this chapter, but he'll appear in the next. Just wait for it.**


	2. Come as you are

**Hey. I updated this story sooner than I intended to, as I will go to Scotland next week and will not be able to update this. I have two more chapters of this written, but I think I will leave them to later. And I'm sorry, the writing is kind of awkward in some parts as I am not used to write these kind of things.**

**And oh, in this story Arthur is 15, Matt and Al are 10, Jett is 8-ish and Sydney is 5 years old.**

* * *

She would arrive on Monday after filling some forms. The siblings spent the weekend at some sort of a shelter for children who were in similar situations. It made Arthur anxious, for some reason (though he was pretty convinced it had something to do with those creepy Russian kids. The oldest was somewhere around his age and she was crying all the time, not to mention her massive breasts were making abnormal sounds, then there was the creepy little brother who smiled all the time until Alfred pissed him off and the hell broke loose, and then there was that off-the-meter scary little sister who looked like she was to bite your arm off if you didn't watch out), and when they were taken back to Carlos' office, he was surprised to feel relief.

Lydia lived in a nearby town. Arthur didn't remember much of her; he vaguely remembered what she looked like, and some little things like when she had visited them one Christmas and gave him a stuffed rabbit which was later accidentally burnt in the fireplace.

So when he was called into Carlos's office so he could have a chat with Lydia on the phone, he was nervous. Extremely nervous. He left his siblings alone with their belongings they had went to collect from their flat before leaving the town, and entered the small, grey office.

Carlos talked with her, some formalities and other things Arthur just pretended he didn't hear, nodding and explaining what had happened. The blonde figdeted; he began to grow afraid. Lydia hadn't seen him for ages; she had never met his younger siblings. In fact, she had heard of their existance yesterday. What if she took them in just because responsibility? What if she didn't even care?

What if she was like their mother?

"Arthur, you can speak now", Carlos said and offered him the phone. Arthur swallowed, and hesitantly took it, pressing it against his ear.

"Hi."

"_Arthur? Oh dear, you sound like you're an adult already."_

"Well, I'm fifteen, I think it's understandable."

"_Of course_", she laughed, "_I just can't believe how long it has been._"

"Me neither."

"_Do you still want to be a wizard when you grow up?_"

Arthur blinked. "Excuse me?"

"_A wizard. I remember you were determined to become a wizard when you grow up. You talked and talked about it for hours."_

A smile rose on Arthur's lips. "I can't believe you remember something like that."

"_Of course I remember. You were my only nephew at the time. Things like that will not be forgotten."_

"I guess so."

"_How have you been? I've missed you so much."_

"I've been...okay. I guess. As good as you can be."

"_I see. We have so much to talk about. I just can't wait to see you and the others. I have missed so many years from your lives."_

"It wasn't your fault."

She laughed again. _"Are you always like that?"_

"Like what?"

"_Nevermind. Tell me something about the others."_

* * *

By the roll of the phone conversation, Arthur was able to make a pretty good summary about Lydia.

In short, she was a fairy god mother-kind of person.

On Monday, she appeared in the office around noon with the biggest smile on her face. She was a short, a bit on the chubby side, blonde-haired woman, and was wearing loose blue dress with a red cardigan and flipflops. As she saw Arthur she hugged her tightly, telling how tall and handsome he had grew, making Arthur blush. Then she proceeded to the younger children, placing the names on the right faces and chitchatting with them. She was a charming lady, and immeaditely had Alfred all over her (he always had been a fan of real-life fairy god mothers). When she took some sweets from her red polkadot purse, Jett and Sydney were in too. Matthew stayed close to Arthur, violet eyes watching her carefully. Lydia smiled the entire time and chatted with them and radiated happiness and love and all things nice and was just wonderfully lovely. Not long and Matthew had scooted closer to this amazing person.

Arthur didn't socialize much with her. He couldn't believe that woman would take them over.

He couldn't believe she was his aunt.

It was just far too good to be true.

Good things just didn't happen to him.

* * *

"So, Arthur", she said, smiling. Arthur lifted his gaze from his feet. He was on the back seat with Sydney, Jett and Matthew since Alfred had called dibs on the front seat (as expected from him to do so). It was an hour and a half drive to Lydia's place, and Sydney, Jett and the twins had dozed of in fifteen minutes for not sleeping well for a while. Arthur couldn't sleep. He was waiting for the moment he actually woke up.

"Yes?"

"You didn't say much at Carlos' office. I'd like to know something about you, more than the fact you want to be a wizard."

"That was years ago", he smiled a little.

"Well, that's what I remember of you. Tell me something."

"There isn't that much to tell."

"Surely there is. Everyone has something to share with the world. Your siblings seemed to have a lot to say."

"They are children. Children always have a lot to say. Plus the fact you're the aunt they have never met or heard of, they were quite excited about that."

Lydia chuckled.

"You seem like a smart young man."

Arthur didn't answer. He was told that a lot, by everyone. After that they always told him to show it more and study and other shit like that which he couldn't do because there wasn't any time for him to do so because he had his family to be taken care of.

"Do you like music?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. That he hadn't expected. "I haven't thought of that. I don't have time for music."

"I see. You seem like a bloke who likes good ol' punk and rock."

"I guess so."

Lydia glanced back from the driver's seat. "You're not much of a conversationalist, are you?"

"Not really. I prefer to keep people at distance."

"I can see that. I'm sorry to tell you this, but I am going to make that very difficult."

"I can see that", Arthur answered. Lydia laughed. It was quiet for a moment, neither of them knew how to continue. Then Arthur spoke.

"Lydia, I can't thank you enough for taking us in-"

"No, don't you even start with that."

"But...?"

"Arthur", she sighed, "if I hadn't been so childish, I could have helped your mother and we wouldn't be in this situation. If I just had been in contact with you things would be lot better. But I didn't, I wasn't there for you when you needed me, and that makes me feel terrible. This is the least I can do after that."

* * *

Arthur wasn't the least bit surprised when he saw Lydia's neighbourhood.

It was pretty much ripped of from a family-friendly TV programme with its big green apple trees and two-store-houses and detailed gardens and sidewalks. There were chubby red-cheeked children in their striped t-shirts playing outside, laughing, a man mowing the lawn and for Christ's sake, he could have sworn he heard the ice cream truck some where.

Alfred and Jett had pressed their faces on the car windows and asking "is that your house", "is that you house", "is that your house" constantly. She smiled and said "not yet" every time, and Arthur just couldn't believe her patience. Al and Jett were dead annoying and she just brushed it off.

Finally she slowed down and turned infront of a garage. She glanced over to the backseat, smiling.

"This is my house."

It was a white, two-stored house with a big porch and a small garden (there were atleast tulips, roses and irises on the flowerbenches). A large oak was next to the house, shadowing it quite nicely. A brown fence separated the lot from the neighbour's.

In short, it was wonderfully perfect.

Too perfect.

Arthur pinched himself, unnoticed.

* * *

"I'm sorry there's only three bedrooms free, I will move my things from my studio and library to the office as soon as I can-"

"Lydia, we shared the same room for ages. I think three will be more than enough-"

"No no, I insist, you will all have your own rooms. You need some privacy, for God's sake!" Lydia said as she lead the children upstairs.

"I don't need privacy, I want to share room with Mattie!" Alfred announced, grabbing his twin's arm.

"And I want to share room with Al!" Matthew joined, just lot more quietly. Lydia looked at the two boys, sighing.

"Are you sure? It wouldn't be a bother to move the things, and it's far nicer to have your own room."

"We don't want to be separate", they answered in sync. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Just give up, they're always like that."

* * *

It turned out Lydia was fond of spending her time in the kitchen. She cooked, she baked, everything. And her cooking was quite delicious. A plateful of spaghetti bolongese lied infront of each of them, a lovely smell in the air.

"Dude, spaghetti! Awesome! Lydia, you rock!" Alfred managed to utter before stuffing the food into his mouth.

"Arthur never made spaghetti, or even if he did, it tasted like shit", Jett said, following Alfred's example. Sydney and Matthew were not so barbaric, and ate it slowly and carefully, enjoying every piece.

"Ish't thrue", Alfred said, mouth full of spaghetti, "and ith looked like shith thoo!"

"Don't cuss, and empty your mouth before speaking", Arthur scolded them. Lydia chuckled.

"Now now, Arthur is right, remember your manners-"

"We don't have any", Jett noted.

"Sure you have, you just have to use them."

A vivid conversation about good manners and spaghetti sweeped them to their own world. Arthur smiled.

* * *

Lydia had a wonderful collection of books. There was one self in the living room, filled with classical novels and poetry. Arthur ran his hand along the backs of the books, loving the sight infront of him. They never had had many books, and often the ones they had ended up getting burnt or sold or just ruined somehow. It was quite depressing, as Arthur enjoyed reading greatly. If he managed to find some time for himself, which was a rare happening, he would most likely spend it in a library.

Hemingway, Poe, Dickens, Brontë, Christie, Verne, Tolstoi, everything he could possibly dream of, right in front of his eyes. His hand itched to grab one and read it at one sitting. The silence in the room was tempting, just perfect for him to wander of in his own world (the younger ones had fell in love with the large backyard, and when Lydia gave them a football, they were lost in their play).

"Like what you see?" Lydia asked, amusement in her voice. Somehow she had managed to sneak behind Arthur without him to notice.

"Perhaps", he answered, turning to face his aunt. She was a few centimeters shorter than Arthur, having him to tilt his head slightly down.

"My personal favourite is Verne", she told, caressing the back of a copy of "Around the world in 80 days". Arthur noticed it wasn't in as good shape as the others.

"It seems you've read that one more than once."

"Aproximately 127 times."

"You count?"

"Yes, I do. Don't ask. I'm just bonkers that way."

He chuckled.

"Do you have a favourite writer?" she asked. Arthur drew a long breath, thinking.

"If I had to choose, I'd say Bram Stoker. His writing is intoxicating."

Lydia laughed.

"I knew you were a fantasy freak."

"I wouldn't count Dracula as fantasy. It's more of horror, I'd say."

Lydia was about to say something, but was cut by the doorbell. She excused herself, and walked to the frontdoor. Arthur followed her with his gaze, a little curious.

She opened the door, revealing a young man, around Arthur's age, behind it. He had shoulder-lenght blonde hair, neat clothes (not too teen, but not too adult) and a box in his hands.

"Hi, Lydia, I just popped to return this before I go off to town", he had a French accent, "oh, and _maman_ asked if you had the photos she needs."

"Thank you, Francis, and yes, I have the photos, if I give them to you will you take them to her?"

"Of course."

"Great, just a second, I'll fetch them, they're in the kitchen", she said, and took the box, walking quickly into the kitchen. The boy smiled, then he noticed Arthur. His face gained a puzzled look, and Arthur turned his eyes back on the bookself, blushing slightly from the surprisement.

"Here they are, send my love to Marianne", Lydia returned and gave a stack of photos to him. He thanked her and said a fast good-bye before leaving. Lydia turned around and walked back to Arthur.

"Now, where were we?"

* * *

Arthur was used to the noise which followed after 11 o'clock in the evening. Police cars, drag races, gangs, fights, crying, screaming, yelling, drunk laughter, _noise._ It was normal. It was scary, but normal.

So when there was none of that, there was pure silence, it was extremely exciting, new, abnormal. He wanted to know if it was the case on the outside, too, and snuck out of the house to the patio on the backyard.

He was greeted by sounds, silent, beautiful sounds he had never heard before. A car driving somewhere far from the house, leaves in the trees rustling softly, footsteps echoing even when there was no one in sight, invisible animals making noises, crickets, _crickets _for God's sake.

Silence had never been so marvelous.

Silence used to mean there was something wrong; their mum had passed out, there was going to be someone screaming, someone had drawn their last breath, all things terrifying. Things that made his stomach twist, made him sick.

But never it had meant peace.

To celebrate this new sensation, Arthur light up a cigarette. Carlos had given a carton to him when no one had seen, "just in case", he had said. Yeah, what a great social worker he was, but Arthur didn't complain. He had had a rough day, despite everything, and he deserved a good smoke. After lighting the paper roll, he put it between his lips and inhaled.

Still good. It was still good as hell.

He blew out a cloud of smoke, and sat on a wooden bench on the patio. He was going to enjoy this moment properly.

He looked at the garden Lydia had. It was so different from the bad-reputated neighbourhoods he had grew up in. Instead of trashcans, graffitis, used condoms, needles and bums there were flowerbenches, an oak, grass and flower pots. The scene wasn't ruined by street lamps and bright lights, he could actually see the sky and the stars. Some lights from next door houses were on, creating shadows, but it didn't matter to Arthur. It was peaceful, silent, beautiful.

He couldn't help but wonder what would life be if he had grew up in an enviroment like this.

He drew a long smoke and exhaled.

It was relaxing. So goddamn relaxing.

His peace was disturbed, though, when he heard footsteps coming closer from the next door neighbour. He turned his head towards the sounds, and for his surprise, he saw the bloke for earlier climbing over the fence. He didn't say a thing, just looked at the blond, slightly confused.

The newcomer landed on his feet, his eyes meeting Arthur's. An idiotic smile rose to his face as he walked infront of Arthur, making him wonder if the guy was mentally handicapped.

"Hi", he said, still smiling. Arthur laughed at this. "Hi", he answered, interested on what was to come.

"I'm Francis. Francis Bonnefoy. I live there", he introduced himself, and pointed towards the house he had appeared from.

Arthur looked at him, eyebrow quirked up, then let out a soundless laughter. "I see."

He knew he was supposed to behave himself instead of being an obnoxious arsehole, but the accent in Francis's voice was just so _bloody goddamn annoying _he couldn't help but be impolite. Francis seemed to notice this, and offered his help in this conversation.

"It would be quite nice to know your name, too."

Arthur glanced his cigarette, for his misfortune he found it to be near it's end, and let it fall on the patio, stomping it to put out the fire.

"Arthur Kirkland."

"Well, nice to meet you, Arthur."

He didn't answer. Francis continued.

"What is Lydia to you?"

"She's my aunt."

"I see. May I ask, what are you doing here?"

"It's none of your business, so keep your nose out of it", Arthur adviced him. Francis turned out to be a but thick-skulled.

"No need to be rude there. I was simply curious."

"Curiousity killed the cat."

"Ah, but satisfaction brought it back", Francis shot back. Arthur glared him. It was ignored.

"As you don't seem too keen to tell the reason for your stay here, I can only presume it's not a visit. Am I right?" he asked. Arthur began to grow annoyed.

"Like said, it's none your business."

"Hmm, I might have to disagree."

"Whatever."

A silence formed between them as they just glared each other, tempted to make it into a proper argument but knowing better not to. It was quite obvious to both of them their personalities were meant to clash. Francis glanced the stump of cigarette, then Arthur.

"Does Lydia know you smoke?"

"She doesn't. Do your parents know you snuck out of the house to have a chat with the neighbour?"

Francis bit his lip. Arthur smirked.

"If you don't tell, I won't tell", he proposed.

"Dear me, something we can actually agree on."

* * *

**Yeah, it was a brief appearance for Francis...sorry about that. Don't worry, soon it will be all about Arthur and Francis. : )**


	3. When the evening comes

**Hiya guys! Time for another update. As I promised (or atleast I think I did so), there's a lot of FrUK teasing. Also, a little bit of family fluff. Do try to enjoy.**

**Also, Michelle=Seychelles.**

* * *

Arthur didn't mind school. It was sometimes even enjoyable. He wasn't stupid, not at all, in fact if he put his mind to it he was brilliant in whatever he tried. But, he had a rebellious spirit which seemed to push common sense away. He mentioned about this, but Lydia brushed it off, saying he would manage. She told him the school was nice and the students were polite, teachers knew what they were doing and 'food is edible'. He wanted to believe this, he really did, it would be far easier to adjust in this new life if it was so.

But, when he had followed the geography teacher into the class room, this had proven to be a far more challenging thing than he had imagined.

You see, the only seat which was free was placed next to Francis Bonnefoy.

Lady Luck was a bitch.

Knowing complaining about this wouldn't change a thing, he had to ignore the little voices in his head and sit down next to the Frenchman. There was a smug smirk on Francis's face which Arthur pretended he didn't notice (along with rest of the person).

Right after the teacher had began his lesson, Francis leaned over the aisle and started disturbing Arthur.

"So we meet again", he whispered, earning a glare from the other.

"Sadly so."

"Careful with the words, Kirkland, I can make your life a hell here if I want so."

"Somehow I can't imagine how my life would be any more hellish than it is."

"What do you mean with that?"

"Well, I have to see your ugly face. That's quite infernal", Arthur shot. Francis frowned.

"You might need glasses, _rosbif_, because my face is quite beautiful. I can't say the same about yours, those caterpillars glued on your forehead ruin it."

"Shut it."

"Make me."

Before Arthur could, the teacher interrupted them. "Francis, I know you're excited about the new student, but please, spare your chitchat to the break. Right now you are supposed to study."

"Of course", Francis answered, flashing a polite smile. When the teacher turned his back to the class, the Frenchman glared Arthur, earning an icy look from the other.

Oh their relationship had a beautiful start.

* * *

"Honestly, I can't believe this. You both were bruised during the same football game?"

Arthur looked at Matthew and Alfred, the twins both had a pouty face on. A blue-green spot decorated Alfred's left cheek, Matthew had one on his right.

"It's not my fault. I just didn't see the ball!" Alfred defended himself. Matthew nodded carefully, muttering 'me neither'. Arthur sighed.

"I think you two need glasses."

Alfred looked at his big brother in horror.

"No way, dude! Heroes don't wear glasses!"

* * *

Usually people buy their children an ice cream after they have been brave at the doctor's. Well, Lydia bought Alfred and Matthew cones after the optician.

To be honest, it was necessary.

For Alfred atleast.

"You look great with glasses", she said, ruffling Alfred's hair. The boy smiled widely.

"Of course I do", he chirped, "heroes look great no matter what they are wearing! I'm like Superman now!"

The others laughed.

* * *

Arthur liked to walk back home from school. It was relaxing, the scenery was somewhat dreamy. There were a lot of large trees, hovering over the sidewalk, letting small rays of sunlight escape and creating a jungle of bright lines. There were pretty houses, and a lake with swans. At first Arthur had just laughed, it had been just too absurd for a place like this exist outside TV, but he had learned to appreciate it.

Today though, he wasn't enjoying his walk as much as usually.

Francis, for a reason or another they knew no one would understand, had tagged along and was now asking questions Arthur did not want to answer. It was beyond his reasoning why the Frenchman spent so much time with him; in school, if they shared a class, he would sit next to Arthur, if he saw him in the school yard he would come and talk (or rather, argue) with him, when Arthur snuck out of the house at night for a smoke (he swore he would quit after he had finished the carton), Francis would appear there, and how many times had he walked together with Arthur back home?

Too many for Arthur to count.

And he had lived there for a month.

Once again, the had engaged themselves to a fierce argument. Arthur would never admit it, but on some level he enjoyed it; arguing was primitive, ugly, raw, and didn't belong to this enviroment. It made him feel cozy, some way.

He'd never tell Francis, though.

"You're wrong, _imbecile_, why can't you just admit it?" Francis whined. Arthur hated that; his voice could be so annoying when high-pitched.

Heck, it was annoying anyway.

"Because I am not wrong. If _you_ have a problem with this, then please, do leave me alone instead of tagging along", he snarled, thinking whether or not he should just give up and knock the frog on the ground. He decided not to.

"That won't do."

"Why, exactly?"

"Because I am helping you to _fit in_", Francis said, and Arthur regretted not hitting the frog.

"Fit in? _Fit it_? Oh please, there is no way in hell I would ever fit in. The world you live in and the world I come from are two different things; they do not mix. I will never, ever fit in. This world is happy, beautiful, there is not a single bad apple here. Everyone's friends with everyone. I'm not from a world like that. My world is scum. I am a child on scum."

They had stopped walking. Francis looked at Arthur, speechless. The other stared the pavement, avoiding any eye contact; he had said too much. Now Francis would be even more keen on finding out why Arthur and his siblings lived there.

He didn't want to tell him.

He didn't want to tell anyone.

"You're not in the scum world anymore. Better start acting like it."

Arthur didn't know whether he should thank or hit Francis for such answer.

* * *

He didn't know which annoyed him more; the fact that Sydney, still in her pyjamas, had climbed up into the tree for refusing to wear a dress for a fancy school event or the fact that Francis was watching them from his window, laughing at the pitiful attempts Arthur made to lure the girl down.

As hard as it was, he deciced to ignore Francis.

"Sydney, get down this instant!"

"No! I don't wanna wear a stupid dress!"

"You have to! You don't have any other good clothes."

"But but but I don't want to! And I can wear Jett's clothes!" she argued. Arthur facepalmed.

"Jett is bigger than you are. You would look like an idiot."

"You are an idiot!"

"Sydney, get down! You're being very rude. You made Lydia very upset. She bought that dress just for you", he tried to reason, hoping it would affect the five-year old.

It didn't.

"I don't care! Mummy never made me wear dresses!"

It stabbed Arthur. He knew Sydney was too young to understand everything. But he knew she knew they didn't have enough money so she had to wear the old clothes that were too small for the boys. He knew she knew their mother didn't care what her children were wearing, it was Arthur's job to make them presentable. He knew she knew.

And still she said what she said.

"Fine!" Arthur snapped. "Fine! Don't wear a dress. Don't fucking wear a dress. I don't care! Be an idiot if you want, you stupid little bastard. Be selfish! I don't care!"

He looked at Sydney, whose eyes had widened, and stormed off to his room. He was angry; not because of Sydney, because of himself.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Francis, who wasn't laughing anymore.

* * *

He was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. His peace was disturbed by a silent knock on his door. Arthur glared the door, not saying a word. Another knock, followed by a squeak when the door opened. Sydney was behind it, fidgeting. She didn't look at Arthur.

"Artie..." she said, voice quiet. Still, she didn't face him. Her cheeks had a shade of red, and it was obvious she was ashamed. Arthur sighed.

"What is it, Syd?"

"Please don't hate me. I'm sorry."

Arthur blinked, then shook his head. "No, sweetie, I couldn't hate you. Look, come here", he said, patting the spot next to him. Sydney walked to the bed, carefully, and sat on it. Arthur wrapped his arms around her. "I was just angry. I don't hate you."

She pressed closer against the older one and grabbed his hand. "You said I am an idiot. And stupid little bastard."

"I didn't mean any of that. I was just angry. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I didn't mean to."

"I'm sorry too. Does this mean we're even when you are sorry and I am sorry?"

Arthur smiled. "Yeah, it does. We're even."

She giggled. They sat there for a while, not saying a word. Then Arthur got curious.

"Tell me, Syd, how did you get down from the tree?"

She turned to face Arthur, smiling. "Francis came to have a chat with me."

Arthur's eyebrow quirked. "Oh?"

"Yeah, he said I wasn't being very nice and told me I hurt your feelings. I said I didn't want to wear a stupid dress because dresses are for sissies. Then he said something and I said something but I kinda forgot and then he said something smart and I came down."

"I see", Arthur answered. Sydney looked at him, thinking.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you hate Francis?"

He blinked at the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, every time you two come from school you're yelling at each other, and when you see each other you look at him really nastily and he does the same, and Francis said you don't like him", she explained. Arthur bit his lip, blushing slightly.

"No, I don't hate him, I just...We don't get along very well. He's annoying sometimes. Well, most of the time actually. But I don't hate him."

"But if you don't hate him why do you yell at him? Do you like him?"

"Look, you'll understand when you're older."

* * *

There weren't too many cigarettes left. Lydia hadn't caught him yet, but she began to grow suspicious when Arthur's clothes seemed to reek even if 'it had been a while since he had last been around someone who smoked'. He decided to save the few remaining ones for times he really needed them. Still, this night he was going to smoke.

He took his usual place on the patio bench, and lit the bud of the paper roll. After a few moments a far-too-familiar scene occured; Francis climbing over the fence, wearing a flimsy jacket and his casual clothes. Arthur ignored him, until the Frenchman sat next to him.

Usually he stood.

"What are you doing here again?" Arthur snarled, looking at the other blonde.

"Nothing special. The usual", he responded. Arthur frowned.

"Trying to find out shit about my life? How lovely."

"Listen, _rosbif_, I am interested in why someone I have never seen in my appears to my neighbourhood, and my classroom, and it's something, I have lived here all of my life. So I want to find out things about you. And you being so damn protective about it just makes it more intriguing."

Arthur laughed without amusement. "I don't care. It's none of your business."

Silence fell between them. Arthur drew a smoke.

"When I talked with Sydney I found out something."

Arthur stiffened. "What?"

"I asked her what her parents would think for her acting in such horrendous manner. She didn't look at me, she just muttered 'I don't think she would notice'", Francis said. Arthur was pale. The other continued. "One day I had a chat with Matthew and Alfred. Alfred said that your mother would come to see you soon and give you sweets and toys and movies. Matthew hit him."

Arthur didn't want to smoke anymore. He threw the roll on the ground. "You should really shut up", he adviced Francis. It was ignored.

"Jett is friends with my little sister. One day he came to play with Michelle, when she asked if they could play house he went quiet and said he didn't feel good, and left."

"Shut up."

"I want to know what your past is."

Arthur didn't answer. He knew Francis wasn't as stupid as he looked like; he could easily put the pieces together. He had an idea of what had happened. Sooner or later he'd find out, whether it was by Lydia telling him, listening to the younger ones or hearing it straight from Arthur.

He didn't like Francis.

Still, in a twisted way, he was the closest thing to a friend Arthur had ever had.

Someone said telling these things to someone would help.

He didn't like Francis.

"Arthur", the Frenchman whispered, "tell me."

He exhaled, breath shaky.

"I'm going to give you the short version, I'm not going into detail because it's really not your business. My mother is a junkie, now in prison."

* * *

Arthur didn't get along with Francis that well, but there was one quality in the blonde he appreciated; Francis didn't treat him like he was glass. Lydia was careful with the children, his school psychologist was annoyingly so, and his homeroom teacher (who had not known in the beginning, but the bloody psychologist told him) also. Francis didn't. He still argued with Arthur, refused to leave him alone. In some cases, their fights turned physical. Arthur didn't exactly like it, often he had to sit in detention because of that, but it was nice to let out some steam. Francis was the way to do so.

Teachers had hard time believing they were actually friends.

Well, frenemies is more accurate.

Because friends usually don't give each other black eyes on purpose.

Multiple times.

* * *

Arthur liked grass. It smelled so fresh, and felt nice against his skin. One of the few times he was actually glad he was wearing a T-shirt was when there was an awfully boring baseball game against some school he had never heard of and everyone had to be watching it. Arthur was lying on the grass, as far from the field as he could, eyes closed. If he could, he would've slept, but the noises other students were making were too loud. Still, he didn't complain. As long as he was alone there.

He heard some clothes rustling, realising someone had appeared somewhere near him. Not really wanting to open his eyes, he pretended he didn't hear it, hoping the person would go away.

More rustling, more disturbance. Obviously his plan wasn't working. He opened his other eye, and startled, for Francis's face was just infront of his and _tad bit too close_. Working by his instinct, he pushed the Frenchman away, swearing.

"Bloody fucking wanker! What the hell do you think you are doing?!"

Francis had landed on his arse, and Arthur was pleased to see him frown. He had managed to hurt the pervert.

"I just wanted to see how you would react", Francis explained, glaring him. "These jeans are new. And expensive. If there is green on them, I will kill you."

"Screw your jeans! You were right on my face! How would you feel if I did the same for you?!"

Francis smirked. Arthur hated when he did that.

"Honestly, I would pull you down and kiss you senseless."

That's the reason why.

"Frog", Arthur said, making his tone calmer than he really was,"if you say something like that ever again, I swear I will rip your cock off and feed it to you."

"I was kidding. Really I would just throw up."

Arthur flipped the bird. Francis stuck his tongue out, and then stood up, turning around.

"Is there any green?"

"...Yeah, on your arse."

"...you're dead."

In the end, no one really paid attention to the baseball game as Arthur and Francis trying to murder each other was far more entertaining.

* * *

One day Lydia told their mother had called from the prison. It was the first time she contacted them. She asked if they could come to see her.

Suddenly Arthur felt very sick.

* * *

He was shaking, feeling weak in the knees. Two weeks after the call, they had visited their mother in the prison. She didn't look like herself; her skin was a weird shade of pink and grey, hair was shorter and dirtier, and the orange jumpsuit seemed to eat her. She was smiling, a scary, empty smile, a strange glint in her eyes.

Sydney, Jett and Alfred had cried, telling everything what had happened to them. They asked when she would be free again. She said soon.

Arthur knew better. She wasn't going to be free anytime soon, thanks to the incident with one prostitute a few years ago. She had been involved in two murders, giving alibis and hiding evidence. The judges never liked that.

Still, she could give those empty promises.

Matthew was clinging to Arthur the whole time; he didn't say much. He had always been the quiet one. Not because he was shy, he knew people. He could read adults even though he was young. It could be concidered as a gift, but to this day it had hurt the boy more than helped.

Arthur was silent the whole time. Once, he met his mother's eyes, and the look said enough; she didn't turn her eyes on him again.

He was so angry.

When they had got back home, it was so late Lydia sent the younger ones to bed. Arthur walked straight to the patio and lit a fag; hands shaky, it was difficult, but he managed.

It didn't relax him enough.

He turned his head to face the house next door, seeing a light in Francis's window. He stared, waiting for some sign of life there. It was a long wait, his cigarette met its end long before Francis walked past the window and noticed the blonde. Soon, the light went off, and he heard the backdoor go shut. His eyes found his feet; soon he heard to familiar footsteps coming closer.

"You've never done that", Francis noted. Arthur didn't look up.

"What?"

"Stared at my window."

"How would you know?"

"I have cameras."

"Oh please. You can't even use a bloody computer without screaming like a girl."

"Caught me."

Silence. Francis sat next to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked. No response was recieved.

"Arthur?"

"...I was reminded how ugly the world can be."

* * *

**...AND BAM, ANGST. I think I warned you guys.**

**And it started off so fluffy ;A;**

**I have no idea when the next update will be.**


	4. Ignorance is bliss

**Writing this chapter was difficult, because how the hell are you supposed to describe wife-carrying. But as a genuine Finn, I must include wife-carrying in my stories! Even if this is a fucking stupid chapter.**

**And now that we know New Zealand is a male for sure (thanks anime, just a few weeks late...) Sydney will be genderswap!New Zealand. Not nyotalia, just genderswap.**

**Also, Manon= Belgium, Willem= Netherlands, Mathias= Denmark. Also, Tino= Satan.**

* * *

"You do know Antonio is crushing on Manon?" Francis asked. Arthur looked at him, face calm.

"I do, and I could not care less about your gitfaced friend. Besides, she was to one to come flirt with me. I just accidentally played along."

"You also know Willem is quite protective of his sister?"

"Yes. Your point is?"

"You might have a big mess in your hands if this catches fire", Francis said, smiling that evil smile of his. Arthur ignored it.

"If you think I care, you're wrong. I am tougher than those two combined. They can't hurt me. Sorry to disappoint you, frog."

Francis laughed. "Your funeral."

"I'm not going to die, moron. I've been gone through lot worse things than an air-headed tomato idiot and a pot-smoking emotionless dumbass."

"Beautiful words you use to describe them, _rosbif_."

Arthur glared him.

"Look who's talking. I know what _rosbif_ means, frog."

Francis smirks, a mean gleam in his eyes. "I use it with love."

There's a silence, too long for both of them.

* * *

One thing that Arthur was not too fond of was the long walk from the library back to Lydia's house; there were lot's of noisy children on the way, and some teens from his school who hanged out in the park, and everytime he saw them they gave him nasty looks, for a reason or another, and of course some creepy old ladies who knew Lydia, and by that they knew Arthur, but he didn't know them. Those ladies had a bad habit of coming to him and trying to have a chat with him. Arthur knew they didn't do it because they were friendly; they did it because they wished to know where exactly did these five rugrats appeared from and what is their story. A good gossip to have with tea and biscuits.

Many things he didn't like about that walk.

And to make it even better, it was raining and he didn't have an umbrella.

His jacket was soaking wet, and he found out his shoes were certainly not waterproof, as everytime he took a step there was a moist noise.

His shoes would smell horrible tonight.

He walked as fast as he could, and secretly he was quite happy the rain was this heavy; no old ladies jumping infront of him asking how is he.

But of course, he was not a lucky person, therefore there had to be something that would annoy the shit out of him no matter what was the given situation.

Arthur heard a "ding" behind him and, when he turned around, he saw the one person he certainly wouldn't have want to see, Francis, on a bike grinning evilly. He muttered a profanity under his breath as the Frenchman stopped next to him.

"Well, fun to see you get drenched here, _rosbif_."

Arthur shot him a glare. "Please tell me if you have an unvisible brolly, because it look like you are not safe from the rain either, Frog."

"But I have a bike. That means I'm faster than you are, in other words I will be not as wet as you when I get home", Francis smiled, looking too smug.

"Oh please, you will probably end up in a puddle, or a lake because you can't see anything from behind that rat's nest you call hair."

Francis gasped. "You did not insult my hair."

"Have you seen it? It looks horrible when it's not dry."

As much as they would have wanted to continue their argument, the rain seemed to increase. Arthur groaned, and without a word he walked forward, doing his best to ignore Francis. However, the Frenchman didn't want to be ignored. He caught Arthur, and parked his bike so the other couldn't continue. A glare was recieved, an icy one too.

"Really, Frog? You do realize blocking my way isn't going to make you less wet?" Arthur hissed. Francis fake-laughed.

"I am very aware of that. But that's not my intention, actually I was about to offer you a ride."

Arthur raised his eyebrow, not quite believing his ears.

"Excuse me?"

"Get on, we're going to the same direction anyways. It's not going to kill you", Francis said. Arthur scoffed.

"Maybe, but you ending up in a lake or under a fucking lorry will!"

"I'm not going end up in a lake, _rosbif_!"

"Somehow that does not convince me..."

"Look, I'll be your willing slave for a day if I drive into a lake", Francis offered. Arthur was about to object, but then he gave it a second tought. Having Francis to do whatever he wanted sounded quite nice, especially when he thought all the nice things he could make the Frenchman do (such as wearing a dress in school). But, only for a day?

"A month and I might just do it."

"A month? No way. Week is the absolute max!" Francis uttered, and Arthur grinned.

"A week it is, then."

Francis stared the other blonde, and muttered a curse under his breath.

"You fucking planned this."

"Maybe I did. Now, the ride, if you may."

Francis didn't drive into a lake. He did, however, crash into a tree.

For that he was Arthur's willing slave for three days.

And, because of that, gained the title "Duchess Francis of Fishnet stockings".

* * *

Arthur didn't know why exactly he had agreed to come camping with people he didn't consider as friends, some of them he even didn't like. Maybe he had momentarily lost his sanity. Anyhow, it turned out to be not horrible, that trip. Actually, it was almost nice.

Almost.

First, he had to cram into Gilbert's "awesome" car, to the backseat with Tino, Mathias and Francis (who had to sit on his lap because Mathias's arm was broken and Tino didn't like when people touched him, and triggered a delightful argument between the neighbours), and then the backseat passengers gained the opportunity to follow the fight between Roderich and Gilbert on the front seat when Gilbert insulted Elisaveta, Roderich's ex-girlfriend.

Why was Roderich there in the first place, anyway? He always had tought the Austrian was too posh to hang out with them. Gilbert was, according to his own words, awesome, and extremely obnoxious and loud, Mathias wasn't much better, Tino seemed normal at first but when you got to know him you found lots of darkness (The guy could beat up anyone if he wanted to. Easily.), Francis was an utter pervert, and Arthur was...well, Arthur. Not the kind of people Roderich was used to be seen with.

This was explained when Gilbert's fingers briefly brushed the Austrians. Francis and Arthur shared a look.

_So that's what it was about_.

When they finally arrived at the forest and the place they were supposed to meet the others at, they were greeted by sheer nothingness. Mathias scratched his head, muttering something about Willem saying they'd be there already. Arthur noticed a backpack behind a tree. So did Francis.

"Ten bucks on Antonio jumping to hug Roderich", the Frenchman whispered. Arthur scoffed.

"Please, we both know that's going to happen."

And it did. In a few second, the overly-cheery Spariand appeared from a bush and ran to Roderich, wrapping his arms around him and babbling some happy nonsense. The act of affection was rewarded with a push and rant. Elisaveta, Manon, Willem and Lovino stepped from behind trees, somewhat displeased looks on their faces.

"We were supposed to frighten you, but that tomatobastard couldn't keep his hands of from the pianobastard!" Lovino huffed. Antonio turned to the Italian, a stupid smile on his face.

"Oh come on Lovi, I didn't know Roderich would be here too! This is great!" he said, trying to hug Roderich again, but this time he escaped in time behind Gilbert.

"I knew I would regret this", he hissed, while Gilbert just grinned.

After three arguments (Gilbert vs Roderich, Lovino vs Antonio and Elisaveta-Francis-Gilbert vs Arthur-Roderich-Lovino which then escalated to Elisaveta-Gilbert-Roderich-Lovino vs Arthur-Francis) and one miniature war (Willem-Lovino, for some strange reason) the group managed put up the tents (which triggered another miniature war, for another strange reason between Manon and Tino). Mathias smiled widely and nudged Tino, muttering something to him. The Finn chuckled. Elisaveta and Manon were having a conversation of some evil sort, eyeing the others (especially Roderich and Gilbert) mischievously. The others were just slouching on the logs around the small campfire.

"Hey guys, I have an idea!" Tino suddenly said, gaining everyone's attention. The Finn was smiling, and Arthur swore he could see Satan himself in his blueberry eyes.

"Let's play wife carrying!" he said, and Mathias was nodding excitedly. Lovino glared them. "What the fuck is wife carrying?"

"It's a Finnish sport. You work in partners, and the other is wife and the other is carrying the wife", Tino explained, and yes, Arthur was certain Satan was with them. So was Lovino, apparently.

"No way in fucking hell! That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard!"

"Oh come on, we even have World Championships about it! It's fun!"

"I'm in, it sounds great!" Manon said, giving a look towards Antonio (which, propably went unnoticed as the Spaniard tried to lure Lovino into the game). Elisaveta agreed aswell, so did Mathias (of course, that pervert wanted to grope someone), Gilbert (another one here), Antonio (not a pervert actually, just stupid), Willem (he was stoned, most likely) and Francis (perverted bastard). Arthur, Roderich and Lovino objected strongly. Again, a miniature war caught fire. After twenty minutes of name-calling, threaths and insults Arthur and Lovino gave up; they'd be up for one round, but that was all. Roderich, that prude little shit, refused to be part of it. Tino named him to be the judge.

"So", Tino said, and grabbed a few sticks, "we'll decide the pairs with these so everyone will be equally unhappy. There are two sticks that are the same lenght and that will tell you who you are working with. Okay?"

The others muttered something of an approval, and then proceeded to draw sticks from Tino. Some were happy with their partners, other's werent; Manon and Antonio seemed to beam, Mathias was glad to be with Willem, and Elisaveta was content with Tino; Lovino was everything but happy with Gilbert and Arthur and Francis were keen on strangling each other before having to do anything. Fortunately the other managed to distract them from committing a homicide.

"Okay, we'll do it this way; Mathias and Willem will race Manon and Antonio, then Lovino and Gilbert face Francis and Arthur. Then the winners will race each other, and in the grand final they will be against Elisaveta and I. OK?" Tino smiled.

"Why aren't you two racing at all?" Lovino snarled.

"It's because I've done this before, and it would be only fair", Tino explained, and Lovino muttered something under his breath. Tino ignored the Italian.

"First, I will show you how you're supposed to carry the wife, then you can decide your arrangements. Elisaveta, if you may", Tino smiled to the Hungarian. Elisaveta braced herself, and on a swift move Tino swung her over his shoulder so she was facing his back. Arthur facepalmed; no matter which way they did it, it would be awkward. Francis carrying him would mean the Frenchie would grope his arse, and him carrying the frog would mean Francis would stare his behind.

Why did he agree to do this, again?

First it was Manon being carried by Antonio and Mathias being carried by Willem (how had they ended up to that arrangement, it was beyond Arthur's mind). It seemed to be clear Antonio and Manon would win, since Mathias was quite heavy and Willem was barely able to walk straight with him over his shoulder shouting from the top of his lungs...

Until Antonio got lost.

On a straight track.

It never came clear how that happened, but for everyone's surprise Willem and Mathias continued to the semi-final.

"I'm carrying you", Arthur said to his partner. Francis blinked. "And what makes you think so?"

"Because I am carrying you. I will not have you dropping me", he hissed, and Francis glared him.

"Fine", the Frenchman spat, "but only because I don't want you to rip my hair off in terror."

It would have triggered a nice little argument if Lovino hadn't screeched and gathered everyone's attention. The Italian was brigth red, and glaring Gilbert. Gilbert was blushing, too. Before anyone got the chance to ask what had caused this, Lovino announced he was carrying Gilbert. That was unexpected.

"Are you sure? Gilbert is quite a fatass", Elisaveta said, smiling sweetly to the albino.

"One recognises other", Gilbert shot back. Tino coughed and reminded them about the race. Elisaveta and Manon giggled on the back. Arthur did his best to ignore them (because dammit, he knew Elisaveta was far too interested in male relationships, and this would be the definition of her heaven).

"If you drop me, I will rip your eyes out of their sockets", Francis muttered. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Please, you refuse to touch anything slimy. You wouldn't do that."

"I'll hire someone. Or use gloves."

"Okay", Tino's voice cut them off, "get to your positions!"

Arthur had never thought of how awkward it would be to have another person's arse right next to his own face. He would rather not have found out, to be honest. But there he was, Francis' behind at his eyes, and trying his best to not lay his eyes on it (mind you, Francis was probably checking out his arse).

"You're fat", Arthur announced, and heard Francis scoff. "You are weak."

Beside them, Gilbert was blushing furiously and Lovino muttering Italian curses.

"Okay!" Tino said, "On count to three, one, two...Lovino eyes on the track!...Three!"

One hell-ish round of wife-carrying began. Details were sworn to be held in secret, but it is safe to tell these things: both teams were disqualified. Lovino had accidentally tripped, dropping Gilbert and giving him a good nosebleed, which Roderich had taken care of (That prim little bastard had an first-aid kit with him. Wuss). Arthur and Francis could've won the race, but...the instinct to argue was too great, and Arthur ended up dropping Francis purposefully and Francis might have purposefully groped the Arthur's arse before that and then they ran to the pond, screaming insults at one another and fighting the same time.

The other's didn't bother to go check what happened at the pond. It was a matter between two very immature young men.

(Elisaveta didn't go because she was busy fantasising what was going on.)

When Arthur and Francis got back, the latter was soaking wet (Arthur had managed to push him into the pond) and the previous was covered in mud (Francis had took his revenge by introducing him to the soil).

"You two look great", Manon giggled, and the other's joined. "Looks like you two had pretty awesome time there", Gilbert snickered.

"Sod off", Arthur spat, Francis backing him up with an icy glare. (One could hear Elisaveta gasping if you listened very carefully.)

"You two better go change if you don't want to catch a cold", Tino adviced them. Arthur rolled his eyes. "No shit."

"Oh, by the way guys, we picked our tent-mates-"

"Antonio, don't say tent-mates-"

"But Willem, it's a cute word-"

"It's gay", Gilbert said, and Willem nodded. Antonio, as oblivious as ever, ignored them. "We picked our tent-mates, and you two are sharing one!"

Horror appeared on their faces. "No."

As the other's bursted out into laughter, Antonio continued. "Yeah! Isn't it cool? You can argue all night long now."

Arthur blinked, trying to calm himself down. Francis' eyes darted between the Spaniard and the others.

"Can I kill them? Arthur, can I kill them?"

"Bitch please, you can't kill a fly with those hands", Arthur hissed. "I haven't had a good reason. But now I do", Francis responded, and the other blonde shrugged. "Do what you want. I'm going to go hang myself now."

"Oh come on", Mathias cut in, "What's so horrible about sharing the tent with each other? You're pretty inseparatable anyway, so what's the point?"

"They're gay for each other", Gilbert suggested, earning an enthusiastic giggle from Elisaveta. Francis and Arthur didn't appreciate this idea.

"Gay for him? Have you seen his eyerbrows? Hair? His face? I may be attracted to many things, but him?! Please!" Francis snarled, tossing his locks and continuing with French swears.

"Even if Francis was the last person on earth, I'd still not be gay for him! I'd rather make out with a dog!"

"If that's the case, then there should be no problems sharing a tent, rigth?" Willem reasoned.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

Arthur stared the Frenchman, who was on the other side of the tent, pouting. In the end, they had agreed to share the tent, but only because they didn't have a ride back home and no one was willing to change their 'tent-buddy' and there were animals outside and they had to prove they were certainly not gay for each other.

Because they weren't.

Francis huffed in frustration. "I can't believe I have to stare your stupid face the whole night."

"Keep your voice down, idiot, and we're sleeping; unless you plan to stalk me the whole night you are not going to see my face", Arthur said, earning a 'hmph' from the Frenchman. He ignored it, and dove into his sleeping bag, turning his back to the other blonde. "I'm going to sleep now; I don't want to see your stupid face either."

"You need glasses, _rosbif_, because my face is perfect."

"Perfect as in perfect missile aim, yes, you're quite right."

"Do hold your tongue, Arthur dear, you might manage to attract some people if you keep quiet."

"Maybe I wish to stay alone."

"Maybe you don't have a choice."

"Maybe if you'd just shut up", Arthur hissed, and Francis quieted down. He could hear some shuffling, assuming it was the Frenchman getting into his sleeping bag. Then nothing, though he could imagine Francis scowling.

Giggling.

A girl giggling.

He heard Francis shift.

"Is that Elisaveta?" the Frenchman whispered. Arthur blinked. "Yeah, I think it is."

"What is she doing outside at this time? I thought we agreed to go sleep."

"The real question is, why is she giggling?"

As if to answer Arthur's question, they heard someone talking to Elisaveta. A guy. Arthur turned around to face Francis. "Is that..."

"Tino."

They quieted down to hear what was going on. More giggling, they were talking but the words weren't comprehendable. Francis crawled to the tent front and opened the zipper just so he could peek and see what was happening outside, careful to not make any noise. "_Mon dieu_", he whispered.

"What?"

"_They're kissing_", Francis explained, and Arthur almost lost his self-control, about to swear very loud.

"Really?"

"Oui, yes, and now they're going to the pond...", Francis closed the zipper and sat up. "That was...unexpected", he muttered. Arthur nodded. "I didn't know they had something going on. I thought Elisaveta tried to pimp Tino with Berwald."

Francis hummed, then his face paled. "I just remembered something."

"What?"

"They're second cousins."

Not much sleep was gained that night.

Not much was said during the awkward morning as Arthur and Francis avoided Tino and Elisaveta the best they could.

Atleast they managed to prove they're not gay for each other.

Or not.

Because apparently, being able to spend the whole night together meant they were releasing sexual tension between them.

Merciful God would nuke the people that are called 'friends'.

There's no such thing as merciful God.

* * *

**So guess who I ship with who.**

**Finno-Ugric relationships for the win!**


	5. A different kind of tension

**Hola, bitches. It's time for another jolly chapter of Glass! It's a bit longer than the other ones. As usual, Tino is Satan. And I'm pretty sure you can figure out who Katyusha is. Also some shit gets deeper.**

* * *

"I swear to God, if you two don't end up getting married, _no one will_."

Francis and Arthur paused their fighting to stare Elisaveta. "Excuse me?" they said simultaneously. She rested her head on her hand, looking over the table at the two blondes. "There's this _huge_ aura of unreleased sexual tension around you two. It's crazy."

Francis looked at her, shocked. "I do not have anything sexual towards this unattractive ball of scones", he exclaimed, earning a (very manly) slap from Arthur. "Sod off! As if I would have anything sexual towards you, bloody wanker!"

They continued their physical and verbal assaults as Elisaveta marvelled the sparks of unreleased sexual tension that lightened the whole room.

* * *

Arthur managed to escape from Francis and his friends at lunch break. He wasn't too keen to listen Gilbert's bedroom adventures (yes, apparently the albino and Roderich had some action and now Gilbert boasted with the fact he managed to open the lock in Mr. Beethoven's pants) and knowing Francis and Antonio, they were very keen to hear what the prude Austrian was like in bed.

Seriously. What the fuck.

Antonio wasn't gay, not even bi. He had Manon. Why was he so interested in Gilbert's dick feast? Francis, well, he was a pervert, he would bang anyone who was willing, but still, _it's weird to be interested in your friends' bedroom stuff._

Arthur tried to banish the thoughts out of his head as he walked towards the library. As doing that, he noticed the curious event of Emilie, Francis' younger sister, trying to strangle Lovino as Tino watched the event with a worried look in his eyes outside. He managed to hear Emilie yelling "Nico Rosberg could totally drive a Ferrari, and you know it, you dirty pile of bad pizza".

Formula 1 fans. That's what they were.

Suddenly, he bumped into someone and that someone's belongings scattered on the floor. Arthur let out a profanity and quickly kneeled down to pick the items up, apologising. The other person did so too, repeating the word "sorry" far too many times. A very nice view for Arthur, she had very large breasts.

Arthur glanced over to see her face, and was quite certain his heart stopped beating for a moment. The girl he had bumbed into had short, pale hair, a blue headband keeping it in order, slightly chubby face and red cheeks. He knew this girl. She had been at the shelter Arthur and his siblings had spent the weekend in. The creepy Ruskies.

"It's you", he blurted, and her eyes met his; she recognised Arthur too, gasping in surprisement.

"Oh my God", she whispered, dropping the pen she was holding. For a moment, they stared each other. How could they meet in such place? It was absurd. Surely neither of them had expected this.

Arthur realised they must've looked stupid, just kneeling there with pens and books on the floor and oggling each other. He cleared his throath and collected the items together, handing them over to the girl.

"I'm sorry for that. That was very clumsy of me", he said as the stood up. She shook her head. "No need to apologise, I wasn't watching my steps."

Arthur smiled politely. Then he lowered his voice.

"Relatives?"

"Foster parents", she answered. Arthur nodded, making sure no one was watching them.

It wasn't their business anyway.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland", he introduced himself.

"Katyusha Braginski. It's my first day here", she said, smiling carefully. She seemed very aware of her actions, and Arthur understood; he was the same.

"I see. I can show you around if you need any help."

"Thanks. Actually, if it's not too much of a bother, could you tell me where the history class is? I am completely lost."

"It's not a bother at all. The class is one the other side of the building, do you want me to take you there? It's quite a maze, this place", Arthur laughed, managing to get Katyusha smile more widely.

"That would be great."

They had a polite chitchat while walking, just like any normal teenagers would have. Arthur noticed Katyusha was a very nervous person; she avoided eye contact as much as possible. He understood, he did it too. Mathias and Willem passed by (obviously noticing her notable assets), and the Dane mouthed "Damn Art, way to go!". Arthur flipped him the bird. Katyusha raised her brows.

"Friends of yours?" she asked. Arthur huffed. "I'd rather say people I know and spend time with for some unknown reason and that drive me crazy."

"Friends it is, then."

They laughed a little, and Arthur glanced around them; no one was close enough to hear their conversation. He could ask.

"I don't want to be rude, but can I ask what's your story? I will tell mine if you tell yours."

She bit her lip, quickly making sure no one was listening to them. "It's not a nice story."

"Mine isn't either. They say talking would help."

"Does it?"

"I don't know. Haven't talked with anyone who's in the same situation", Arthur said. Katyusha raised her eyebrow. "But you have talked."

Arthur shrugged. "It wasn't a proper talk; I just gave a hint of what has happened to a...someone who won't leave me alone."

"Friend?"

"Definently not", Arthur scoffed. Francis was definently not his friend. Their relationship was simply twisted.

"More than a friend?" she smiled. Arthur blushed.

"_Definently not that_", he answered, and Katyusha giggled. Arthur must've been as red as a tomato. That made him blush even more. Katyusha, luckily, ignored this, and answered Arthur's question.

"My parents are violent drunks. I've been taking care of my younger brother and sister for 10 years now, after my mother wasn't able to do that anymore. They beat us sometimes. It left a mark on us, physically and mentally", she said, avoiding eyecontact. "It has been rough", she sighed. Arthur nodded. "My mother was a junkie. Have no idea where my father, or the other's fathers, are. Violence. Drugs. The usual shit."

A quiet moment, they just walked. Katyusha broke the silence.

"Feel better?"

"Do you?"

"I'm numb."

Arthur sighed. "Lucky you."

* * *

"Arthur Fucking Kirkland, are you freaking kidding me?"

Gilbert stared the blonde eyes wide. "What?" Arthur spat.

"That new girl, Katyusha. You just instantly bond with her! You playboy! What the fuck. Did you use some magic or what?"

"It's nothing like that. We've just...met before."

Gilbert howled. Mathias' and Francis' jaws dropped. "Where?"

"It's not your fucking business."

"Seriously, were you a pimp before you moved here? One does simply not know sexy girls and hide their past without being a pimp", Tino joined the conversation. Others made noises of approval. Arthur huffed. "I wasn't a pimp. I met her once, briefly. That's all."

"Dudes, you're forgetting the important part", Mathias noted, meeting Arthur's eyes. "I want you to be honest. Are you making a move on her or is she on the market?"

"What?"

"Answer the question!"

"No, I'm not making a move on her! Bloody hell, why are you so interested in other people's relationships?" he scoffed. Francis wrapped his arm around Arthur's neck. "Because that's healthy! You should try it too, _cher_."

Arthur's eyes met Francis. "Frog."

"What?"

"You have three seconds to start running."

* * *

Matthew got a black eye in a fight.

Alfred lost a tooth in the same fight.

Some other kids had made fun of their last names.

One had broke his nose because of that.

* * *

"What's the thing between you and Katyusha?" Francis asked. They were walking back home from school. Arthur scowled. "Like I have said a million times before, nothing."

"No, there is something. I'm not saying it's romantic, but you just instantly bonded with her. It took me ages to get to your nicer side, and you still treat me like shit."

"You are shit."

"Shut up. Two weeks. She has been in our school for two weeks. I've known you for four months. You treat her better than me", Francis said. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"You make it sound like you're jealous."

"I'm not!"

"Then shut up. There's nothing between me and Katyusha. Like I have said a million times already, we've met before and that's it. We get along and we understand what-", Arthur stopped himself from saying more. Francis' eyebrows quirked up. "Understand what?" Arthur shot a glare towards the Frenchman.

"It's none of your fucking business."

Francis looked at him, a curious expression on his face. Francis wasn't nearly as stupid as Arthur wanted him to be; the Frenchie could put the pieces together.

"Does Katyusha-"

"We shouldn't be speaking about other people's personal stuff, should we?" Arthur cut him off. There was no way he'd let Francis know something like that. It was not a matter concerning him, and Katyusha trusted Arthur not to talk behind her back.

Lucky for him, Francis let the matter be and focused on other things.

"You know, you should tell me more about yourself. As much fun as it is to argue with you, I'd like to know you better. Just why you are such an imbecile", Francis said.

Ah great. Now they were at this again.

"You don't want to hear my shit. I don't want to hear it either. Let it be", Arthur tried to wiggle his way out of the touchy subject. Francis didn't give up.

"No, I want to hear. All I know about your past is what you told me that one night, and that isn't much. Ten words will not sum up the whole story. You are nervous and angry all the time, and avoid social situations. It's not good for you. It might help if someone knew", Francis reasoned. Arthur scoffed.

"You know enough. Besides, I don't know that much about you either. What happened in your childhood for you to have become a clingy idiot who refuses to leave people alone?"

Francis quieted down and casted his eyes on the pavement. Arthur looked him in surprisement. Had there actually been something ugly in this bloke's life?

"Let's make a deal. I tell something, you tell something", Francis suggested. Arthur was sceptical.

"How do I know it will be worth it?" he asked. Francis' eyes found his. "It won't hurt to try."

"That's where you're wrong."

Francis sighed, and looked at the sky. Arthur examined him. There was something different about the Frenchman, he actually seemed pretty serious.

"My childhood friend and crush died when I was 10."

Francis didn't look at Arthur; he stared the sky, blank expression on his face. Arthur gaped at him.

"Jeanne was _magnifique_; she knew just how to make people smile. She was brave. Wonderful. Then one night someone set her house on fire. The whole family died."

A wall of silence formed between them. Arthur didn't know what to say; he had never thought something like that could have happened in this cheerful pastel-coloured neighbourhood. "I-...I'm sorry to hear that."

Francis shook his head. "It's in the past. I'm over it."

Arthur didn't continue. He knew Francis was waiting for him to say something. But what there was to say? He was supposed to tell something about his past.

He didn't want to.

But promise is a promise.

"Sometimes mum left us alone for two weeks and we had nothing else to eat than cereals and apples. I was 10 or so at the time."

Francis didn't say a word; Arthur's eyes were locked on the pavement. "Two weeks, and nothing to eat. Creeps knocking on the door at night, wanting mum, and we had to hide and pretend no one was home. And after two weeks, she'd suddenly show up with a bag of donuts and face full of sunshine and hug us and pretend she was gone for five minutes. It was fucking horrible."

Francis stared Arthur. "Why didn't you call the police?"

Arthur laughed. "When you're 10, you are pretty damn afraid of the world. I still believed mum could be a good mum."

The dark pressure in Arthur's chest eased a little as he felt Francis' hand on his shoulder.

* * *

Arthur sat at his desk, watching Jett playing with Michelle outside. They were pirates, using sticks as swords and fighting "til death". It was fun to watch; in the past, his younger siblings never brought friends over, nor did they go to their houses. Arthur himself had always preferred solitude so he didn't have many memories of playing with others. But it was cute to see Jett having so much fun with Michelle.

Arthur heard a knock on his door and turned around, seeing Sydney pushing it open. She had a large, stuffed sheep on her arms and she looked very excited.

"Arthur! Look what Lydia bought to me! A sheep!" she laughed, and ran to her big brother. Arthur smiled. "That's very nice. Does it have a name?"

"Yeah! It's Hunter! Say hello to Arthur, Hunter!" she said, and lowered her voice, pretending it to be Hunter speaking. Arthur chuckled. "Well hello, Hunter. Nice to meet you."

"He's pleased to meet you aswell! But we must go now, I have to show him to Al and Mattie and Jett! Bye, Arthur!" she giggled, and ran towards the twin's room.

Arthur wished things had always been like this.

* * *

"So you don't know how to swim?"

Francis' eyes were wide. Arthur began to feel irritated. "For the last time, no. I lived in a city, there were no lakes or rivers where I could have learnt how to. Besides, I'm not interested."

"But you have to come; it's the most important party of the year!"

"You say that everytime."

"Every party is imporant."

School was almost over, and Francis along with his buddies had a tradition of going to a local beach to celebrate it. Since Arthur was pretty much one of the group nowadays, he was expected to join them there. The thing was, Arthur didn't want to. Yes, it was fun to hang out with Francis and Gilbert and Elisaveta and the others, but at the same time, he was afraid they might start to dig up things and he was certainly not up for that. Arthur wasn't even entirely comfortable with Francis knowing, so he didn't want the others to know about his childhood.

But ah, Francis was so good at ignoring Arthur's thoughts he would refuse to give up until the blonde surrendered.. After twenty minutes of arguing, Arthur finally gave up and agreed to come, but only for a short while and he would certainly not be seen wearing only shorts.

* * *

"That sounds fun", Katyusha smiled after Arthur had explained her why he was so cross. Arthur scoffed. "I can't see what fun there is to run around wearing little clothes and be an utter idiot."

"Oh come on. Don't be such a lemon. I'm sure you will have a great time", she said, and Arthur rolled his eyes. "I doubt it highly."

"You always say that, yet everytime you are with Francis and the others you're smiling and laughing."

"Maybe I just momentarily lose my mind?" Arthur suggested.

"That's what people do when they are having fun."

Arthur frowned and turned his head. For a lovely girl Katyusha was horribly good at cornering him in arguments.

His gaze caught Mathias and Gilbert, who were staring them and whispering; when the Dane noticed Arthur was watching them, he quickly mouthed "ask her to come aswell" while Gilbert nodded and grinned next to him. Arthur flipped the bird and mouthed "you can do it by yourself".

"What's going on?" Katyusha asked.

"Gilbert and Mathias want you to come aswell."

"Really?"

"I suggest you pass. They're idiots."

"You say that about everyone."

"Well I think I have the right to do that."

Katyusha rolled her eyes and glanced over her shoulder to see the two 'idiots'. Arthur huffed. "They'll probably contact you later. Right now it seems they're too busy presenting their manhood", he commented on the miniature wrestling match Mathias and Gilbert had put on.

* * *

Arthur had never thought on how much fun it could be watching an angry Roderich hissing profanities at Gilbert. It was hilarious, the Austrian being absolutely livid everytime Gilbert's eyes were anywhere near Katyusha.

Jealousy. Such beautiful little thing.

Elisaveta was, no need to mention, euphoric.

But it looked like Gilbert and Roderich would last, since Lovino and Mathias were the ones entertaining Katyusha and she was clearly enjoying herself, listening to Mathias' idiotic jokes and Lovino's strange flirting-with-you-but-not-speeches.

The teens were sitting on the pier, chatting in smaller groups of three and two. It was a nice, calm night, the water around them was completely still. It was, strangely enough, very peaceful.

That wouldn't last long, of course.

"Hey! Let's play a game!" a satanic, cheerful voice rang in the darkness. Yes, Tino was at it again. Lovino moaned and laid down, exclaiming something in Italian. Antonio laughed at this and commented something about Lovino being cute. Lucky for him, the brunette didn't hear it.

"As long as it's not any of those strange Finnish games of yours, I'm in", Gilbert announced, earning a few grunts of agreement from the others. By now, everyone had learnt that playing games that originated from Finland were dangerous (wife-carrying, cellphone-throwing, boot-throwing, swamp football, you name it).

"No, it's a Korean game. It's real fun!" Tino smiled. Arthur did not like where this was going.

"It's called Korean Card Game, and all you need is one card and people to play it. It's awesome. Now, if you'd just get closer and form a circle..."

They did, Arthur ending up between Elisaveta and Francis. Strangely enough, Roderich sat in the circle as well, next to Gilbert and Antonio. Usually he just followed the situation from afar and huffed in frustration.

"Okay, as it happens I have a card with me-"

"You carry cards around?" Lovino interrupted Tino. The Finn rolled his eyes.

"Yes, and don't fucking interrupt me. So, the object of the game if to get this card go around the circle as many times as possible."

"That's easy", Mathias said, slightly confused. Tino grinned. "Ah, but there's a catch. You have to use your mouth. No hands allowed."

The words sunk in, and soon Lovino and Arthur were very loud and vocal.

"What the bloody hell? That's stupid!"

"Where do you find these sick games?!"

"Internet, duh! I'm not done explaining. You must put the card against your lips and suck and then pass it to the one who's next to you, and they will use their lips only to catch it We're playing my version of this, so everyone has to participate.."

"Doesn't sound too difficult", Francis mused.

Oh, how wrong he was.

As simple as it sounds, suck the card and pass it forward, it was very difficult. First, to get the card so it wouldn't fall from your lips, then turn to face the one who is next in line, and then not to break laughing at their face, and then actually pass it and stop sucking. Difficulties. Many difficulties.

Aaaaand of course, because Tino is Satan, there was the lovely little possibility that the card dropped and you almost kissed the person next to you.

Yeah.

Fuck.

Elisaveta was thrilled.

As usual, Tino began the game, passing the card to Mathias. The Dane was first one to notice how hard the game was, dropping the card twice before he could pass it to Katyusha. Lovino had no problem receiving the card (naturally), but passing it forward to Willem brought a blush on his face as they faced a problem, and it ended up looking like an awkward make-out session between them. (and the ones who had not yet tried, laughed). Willem was quite unfazed and easily passed the card to Elisaveta (that guy had too much practice on sucking). Turning to face Arthur, Elisaveta accidentally dropped the card. Arthur just realised what he had got himself into; if he fucking drops the card at the wrong moment, he's dead.

She replaced the card on her lips, and managed to pass it quite smoothly; Arthur turned around and saw the ridiculous face of Francis awaiting. Francis was clearly at the verge of bursting into laughter, and it irritated Arthur. Bracing himself, he leaned forward, slightly tilting his head for a better angle, and pressed the card against Francis' lips. His face was burning, and he could fucking feel Francis smirking behind the cardboard. Arthur withdrew, and for his reveal the card didn't drop. Francis continued to pass it to Gilbert, and it turned out even more awkward than Lovino and Willem; Francis had to grab Gilbert's neck so the albino could take the card. Roderich was, no need to say, furious.

"It can't be that hard!" the Austrian huffed, and Gilbert finally managed to get the card. The albino turned around and launched himself at his boyfriend, grabbing Roderich's shoulders and forcefully kissing him through the card.

Red doesn't suit Roddy.

After a brief argument on what is proper behaviour in public, Antonio snatched the card from Roderich and passed it to Manon without a problem; however, when Manon tried to give it to Tino, she bursted into laughter three times before succeeding.

"Great! That's the warm up round. Now faster", Tino smiled, and soon the card was moving again; until it hit Lovino, because he was just inable to pass it to Willem without gaining a shade of red. And soon Arthur had the card at his lips again, and Francis smirking next to him.

Say, was he allowed to use his hands to punch the frog?

Arthur leaned forward and pressed the card against Francis' lips. Things were going great, until Francis' let out a suffocated laugh through his nose and _the card slipped._

Briefly, their lips met.

It wasn't nowhere near a proper kiss; the card was still there, and Francis managed to keep it when Arthur withdrew, but it was enough for Arthur to furiously blush and Elisaveta to squee. The other's laughed, and Francis dropped the card.

"Oh my God, you should see your face!" Gilbert uttered, and Arthur flipped him the bird, then buried his red face into his arms. Francis was blushing too, eyes staring the card between his legs.

For everyone else, it was fun. For them, it was absolute death.

And as it turned out, in Tino's version of the game you were not allowed to withdraw nor change place because "it was destiny".

Greeeeeeeat.

As the card was circling again (with minor problems), Arthur leaned closer to Francis. "If you drop the bloody card again, I _will_ castrate you."

"I wouldn't even dream of it", Francis replied, and pointed out that the card was quite close to them, as Tino passed it to Mathias. The Dane decided he has problems and he dropped the card so Katyusha and he kissed. Cheers praised them. Well, as Katyusha continued to pass it to Lovino, the italian decided he has a problem recieving it and another awkward almost-make out situation was there. Cheers praised them. With a blush, Lovino managed to pass the card to Willem, and Willem to Elisaveta. The Hungarian leaned forward and pressed the card against Arthur's lips (she was smiling, dammit) and when she withdrew she giggled. Arthur turned around and there was the Froggy again, dead serious and paralysed. Arthur just stared at the blonde, suddenly forgetting how to move as he just remembered the accidental kiss.

Elisaveta did not approve this sudden pause. Neither did Gilbert. When neither Arthur or Francis noticed, they exchanged a look. Then, without a warning, they pushed the two blondes forward. Arthur dropped the card in surprisement, and before he realised, Francis was on him, face red and_ far too close for Arthur's liking_.

"What the bloody fucking hell?!" Arthur screamed, and Francis quickly scrambled up from the awkward position. Elisaveta was thrilled.

"We simply sped things up a little", Gilbert explained.

Gentlemen do not attack ladies, so Elisaveta was saved. As for Gilbert, two very cross gentlemen lunged towards him and the rest is history.

The card was never found again.

* * *

Eventually people decided to head towards home. The beach was not far from Arthur's and Francis' houses so they walked. Not much was said during the first moments. Both of them were just kind of awkward, even Francis, who had a reputation of a charmer and casanova who never was awkward. Finally, after ten minutes of silence, Francis broke it.

"I think Elisaveta is setting us up."

Arthur turned his eyes to the Frenchman. "Gee, I didn't notice that one myself. Way to go, Sherlock."

Francis scowled. "She has problems."

"You don't say? Anyone who is sane would see that we never get along. _Ever._"

"Well, I wouldn't say ever...", Francis muttered. Arthur stared his neighbour. "Oh my God. Don't say you think we could work something out of this horrible mess", he said in utter horror. Francis shook his head. "No! I didn't mean it that way! I mean, we do get along sometimes, I mean, arguing is our way of getting along, right?"

Arthur sighed, and shrugged. "I don't know. I think...well, for someone who I think is a horribly annoying person I spend awfully much time with you."

"Well that's quite nicely disguised 'I hate you'".

"I don't hate you! I just think you're really annoying", Arthur hissed. Francis grinned, letting out a silent chuckle. "I think you're annoying too."

* * *

***slides accross the room* SHIPTEASEEEEEEEEEEEEE**

**Yeah. Tino's games. They rule. And I have plenty more in stock.**


	6. Secrets

**Hi! Before any notes about this chapter, I just want to thank you for the reviews! They've been really nice and supporting, they make me really happy. They're my fuel : D Thanks everyone! It's nice to know you like the way I portrait Francis' and Arthur's relationship.**

**And the notes: This chapter contains very silly conversations. By that I mean ****_very fucking silly. _****Also, BTT+Artie!**

* * *

It was a strange summer for Arthur.

What summer had meant for him was that their mother would be out of control. She might go out and come back after a couple of days, she would get a new boyfriend every now and then, some of the strange friends she had would come over and stay for God knows how long. It was not a nice time for Arthur or his siblings. Quite the opposite. School time was the best time, and that wasn't much said.

But now things were different; Arthur didn't have to worry about his siblings. Lydia was there. She could, and she wanted, to spend time with them, making the summer fun time for the children, making up the years she had lost and being a great aunt. Arthur could come and go as he pleased; Lydia trusted him enough. Arthur appreciated that.

On some level, he understood why their mother left them alone for a couple of days. The feeling of absolute freedom was intoxicating. For a very long time, Arthur had felt like he was suffocating, and now, he could breathe freely. It was mindblowing.

He saw things very differently.

He still had one cigarette, waiting for the rough times.

Arthur wished he'd never have to see it.

* * *

What Arthur liked most in the summer was probably the time after the younger ones had gone to bed and Lydia and him were watching television together, scrolling through the channels absent-mindly. It was relaxing. It was something he had never exprerienced with his own mother.

It's an unfair world, how someone can have children and some can't.

Lydia was infertile; and even if she had children, she didn't want to raise them alone. Her husband Paul had died in a plane accident just two years after they had married, and she said she didn't want to marry anyone else because "it would never be the same". Arthur understood, and on some level, he saw a similarity between Lydia and his mother; after the man of their dreams they hung on to the good memories, Lydia choosing life alone and his mother searching it from other men.

Sometimes things are unfair. Sometimes they aren't. Which party was happier, the children who finally had a home or the woman who finally had children, who knows.

"How have you been, Arthur?" Lydia suddenly asked. Arthur blinked a couple of times. "Good, I guess."

"No, I mean, are you happy?"

Her eyes, suddenly so big and serious, seemed to drill into Arthur's mind. He casted his eyes down, and shrugged. "I'm living a safe happy normal life. It is nice. It's good."

"But are you happy?"

He sighed. "When you have lived in insecurity for years, you become very aware and run away from everything, even happiness. When you have nothing to lose, you won't be disappointed."

A silence fell to the room. Suddenly it was very difficult to focus on the TV screen.

"Do you miss your mother?"

"..."

Did he miss his mother? She was an irresponsible woman who couldn't take care of her children nor herself, she had violent tendencies, she was immature. She lied and stole and used people. But she was also a small little woman who was afraid of the world, and those days when the whole family was together and had fun in a park, those days when she wasn't high, she was a mother. Their mother.

"Yes", he sighed.

Arthur wasn't going to lie; he was afraid of what might happen. He was afraid for his mother, he was afraid of that might happen in prison. She wasn't a superhuman, no, not even close. She was a real person, a real, weak person.

"You're a brave boy", Lydia said, and smiled reassuringly. Arthur wasn't certain if that was true.

"Things will be alright."

He wanted that one to be true.

* * *

"It can't be that bad."

Arthur didn't want to be in this conversation. He didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to be nowhere near it. Yet there he was, in the same fucking table with Mathias, Gilbert, Francis and Tino, in the cafe, talking about the most uncomfortable subject there was.

Drug use.

How had they come to the subject, Arthur did not know. How to get out of the subject, that he wanted to do. Every second he became more anxious, nervous, dying to get out of there but losing ability to think a good excuse to leave. He was fidgeting, eyeing the door, afraid to say anything incase he blurted out something. His heart was racing inside his chest, wanting to jump out.

"I mean, really. You can be totally sensible even if you use some drugs. Just look at Willem! The guy has been using for year and a half now and he's probably more reliable than I am", Gilbert announced, earning a nod from Mathias. "Yeah, but everyone's more reliable than you are", the Dane laughed and slapped Gilbert's back.

"That's not the point!" the German reminded, kindly steering them back to the touchy subject. "I mean, I've never seen anyone who is in bad shape because of drugs outside TV."

Well you have always lived in the pastel world made of sugar and cinnamon, there's nothing bad here, only love and cuddles, Arthur thought, but was too nervous to say a word. God how he wanted to be somewhere else right now.

Francis was giving worried eyes towards him.

Fuck.

"Gilbo's right. I mean, maybe it's the personality. Those people were meant to be like that, meant to end up on streets and turn into zombies and stuff", Mathias said.

Shut the fuck up.

"You're just born with that and there's nothing you can do."

_Shut the fuck up._

"And that's why the children of junkies are more likely to end up using because it's in their genes."

Snap.

Before Arthur knew it, Mathias was on the floor on his back, eyes wide. His knuckles hurt and he was standing up, looking down at the Dane. Gilbert, Tino and Francis had shocked looks on their face, everyone in the cafe were looking at them, and Mathias was opening and closing his mouth, trying to speak.

"You don't know a fucking shite", Arthur whispered and turned around, making his way towards the door quickly. He didn't want to be there, he didn't want to be anywhere near anyone. He slammed the door shut, not looking behind and began to run away from there.

Boy did he get himself into a mess. They weren't the brightest guys, Mathias and Gilbert, too obnoxious to be smart, but they weren't too stupid to figure things out, and Tino was certainly not. They'd connect the pieces and then they'd know and God knows what happens next. They could avoid him, ask him questions, try to help even though they don't know a shite, _pity him_.

Fuck.

* * *

"I thought I'd find you here."

Arthur looked up, finding Francis' blue eyes. The Frenchman was standing, looking down at Arthur's defeated form that was sitting on the patio. The green-eyed blonde didn't answer, just returned to his previous doings, which was stare the cracks on the tiles and sulk.

Francis fidgeted, and sat down next to Arthur. He exhaled, avoiding eyecontact (after a while Francis had learned Arthur hated eyecontact when he was down or angry, and), and finally spoke.

"Are you okay?"

Arthur scoffed. "Do I fucking look like I am okay?"

"Fine, you're not. Stupid question."

"Why are you here?" Arthur hissed, and Francis shrugged.

"I just wanted to check if you're trying to commit suicide or some other fun activities."

Jokes. Somehow Arthur wanted to punch Francis, yet somehow he cracked a broken smile.

"That, and I also got you covered."

Arthur turned his head to the Frenchman, surprise and confusion on his face. "Covered?"

Francis nodded. "Yeah, I said that you had a neighbour who died because of overdose and it's a sensitive subject. They ate it."

Arthur blinked a couple of times, digesting the words. "Why?"

Again, Francis shrugged. "I don't know, they're kind of stupid because too many hits on their heads-"

"No, I mean why did you come up with that?"

Francis' eyes met Arthur's, and for a moment there was thick silence, them staring each other. Then Francis remembered he was supposed to answer, and coughed, a light blush rising on both of their cheeks. "You had to be excused. And concidering you left in such a rush I thought you didn't want them to know too much, not that I know the actual story either, I came up with something that would do. That's it."

"That's it?"

"That, and I'm a really nice guy so yeah", Francis laughed. Arthur gave him a dry look and punched him on the shoulder, yet managed to smile and let out a quiet laugh. "Nice guy, yeah right. You're a worse bitch than most of the bitchiest girls."

"Am not. I'm a perfectly well-behaving young man."

"A bloody pervert."

"And you're not? I bet you have a gay porn collection hidden under your bed."

"And what makes you think it's gay porn?" Arthur asked, and Francis grinned.

"So you do have porn under your bed!"

"I do not!"

"You do!"

"Do not!"

"Do too! And it's gayyyy."

"You're gay."

"Only when kissing guys."

"Which means most of the time."

"Oh come on! When was the last time you saw me kiss a guy?" Francis defended himself. Arthur frowned, a bad memory in his mind. "Gee, I don't know, maybe at the beach last week when we fucking kissed?"

"That does not count, it was unvoluntary and nowhere near a proper kiss!"

"It was way too real for me!"

"Oh, you've never been kissed?"

"I have!" Arthur was blushing now, and Francis liked that way too much, a wide smirk that went up to his ears on his face. "Really now? Why do I have trouble to believe that?"

"Because you're a prick and it's none of your business."

"Oh come on, you're such an uptight bastard no one would like to kiss you!"

"Yet you did."

"It was involuntary!"

"You keep telling yourself that", Arthur rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out. Francis frowned. "I wonder what other secrets you are hiding under those eyebrows, Mr. Kirkland."

"Do ask. I might not tell you. But do ask", Arthur said, using a posh accent on purpose. Francis chuckled, and Arthur swore he saw mischievous thoughts in those blue eyes. "Fine. I will ask. And you will answer-"

"I might answer."

"Will answer. Okay, question one, have you ever kissed a girl?"

"Of course."

"And a boy? I don't count, I mean a proper kiss."

"Yes."

"How about french kisses? Again, I don't count", Francis said, laughing at his own cheesy pun. Arthur ignored that.

"Yes. Both."

"Are you a virgin?"

"What?!"

"Answer the question!"

"Why?" Arthur's face was very red at the moment.

"Because you promised!"

"Did not!"

"You did! You can ask me stuff too, just answer the question! Are you virgin?"

Arthur cursed, face burning hot. "No. I'm not."

Francis raised his eyebrows, a perverted smile on his face. "And have you had sex with a girl?"

"Yes", Arthur hissed.

"And a boy?"

"Yes", the blonde answered, very annoyed. Francis laughed, spark in his eyes. "Arthur Kirkland, you wild beast."

"Bugger off. And is it my turn now to ask questions?"

"Oui. Ask me anything."

"Anything, huh?"

"Anything."

"Do you have a dildo?"

"...What?!"

"You asked me uncomfortable questions, I will ask you some and you will have to answer. Do you have a dildo?"

Now Francis' face was red. Arthur felt triumph. The Frenchman got suddenly very squirmy. "Do I really have to answer?"

"Yes. I told you stuff I didn't want to, you tell me stuff you don't want to. Are you daft?"

A loud, annoyed sigh. "Yes, I do have a dildo. Happy?"

"That your arse gets penetrated by a sex toy? I didn't think you'd want my opinion about that one."

Francis is, despite being a girly bastard, damn good with his fists and has a good aim.

They probably beat each other far too much for a sane friendship but since they're not friends because they're just two guys who beat each other it's okay.

Probably.

* * *

By now Arthur should've learnt that hanging out with Francis, Antonio and Gilbert was nothing but trouble. Not the kind of trouble he was used to, not those illegal activities and dark intimidating silences and dirty streets and crooked teeth with golden crowns, no, innocent trouble that people in pastel world thought were hardcore and cool. Egging a house. Toiletpapering a house. Pushing someone into a lake. That kind of stuff. Friendly trouble.

Okay, that was not the word a normal person would use but Arthur wasn't normal and never would be.

But it really didn't matter now because he was more interested in the painfully amusing act that was Francis climbing up a tree with grace of a hippo in order to save his new beautiful scarf.

Painfully amusing.

How had the scarf ended up there in the first place was such classical story. The gang had found their way to their anything-but-beloved history teacher's house. The old man was home, they saw him from the window, and Gilbert had this wonderful idea of getting revenge to the ancient fart. And what better way to do that than a good old dog poo set on fire at the door? Before long Gilbert had a paperbag full of shit and a lighter in his hands, Antonio by his side giggling and Francis appalled by the gross odour. Arthur simply facepalmed, wondering why on earth he was doing this. And so did they put the bag on the doorstep, lit the bag up and rang the doorbell. They ran to the nearest hideout, which was a bush across the street, they waited for the teacher to step out and find their gift.

Things were going well, the old tyrant got out and was clearly surprised to meet the flaming pile. The boys suffocated their laughs as the teacher put the fire out, swearing loudly.

And then Gilbert fucked it up and laughed out loud.

It turned out that the old man had still good ears and quickly his squinty eyes found his students and soon he was shouting threaths at them and the boys thanked their luck the guy wasn't wearing his glasses so he wouldn't regocnise then, even so they ran off, Gilbert still laughing uncontrollably. Briefly Arthur wondered if they'd just dump Gil somewhere, but then Antonio heard a car starting and they realised the old man was coming after them. Knowing he'd catch them soon if they continued by foot, they split, Antonio and Gilbert going another direction and Francis and Arthur another, eventually climbing up a tree to hide. For their luck, the car went to the other direction, and they returned on ground.

And then Francis noticed his scarf had tangled on a branch and practically had a mental breakdown.

"You're going to fall and die", Arthur announced and Francis finally reached the branch, hands kind of shaking (when adrelinaline is running in your veins, it's much easier to do stuff such as climb a tree). The Frenchman scolwed, and grabbed his scarf with careful movements.

"If you suddenly decide you're too scared to come down I will not help you. You can rot there."

"_Casse-toi._ Just tell me if something goes wrong so I won't fall", Francis hissed, and began to back up on the branch he was straddling.

"You'll be fine", Arthur assured him.

Of course it wouldn't go the way they planned. Francis, ever-so-careful to not make sudden moves, little by little leaned a little bit too much to right and before he realised what he was doing, he lost his balance and fell down on his side with a thud, followed by a scream and various curses in French and English.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, hurrying to the other blonde. Francis sat up, hissing and biting his lower lip with a pained expression. "No, I think I landed on my ankle or something. It hurts."

"That's just fucking fantastic", Arthur sighed and facepalmed. "Can you walk?"

Francis shrugged, rubbing his ankle and swearing. "I'll try", he muttered, and tried to stand up, but when he put some weight on the injured foot he's face told pretty much all needed. "Nope, not going to happen."

"Fucking great."

* * *

Somehow Arthur ended up carrying Francis again. Not the way he did back when they played wife-carrying (and just now it occurred to him how intimidating the name of the game is), he was giving Francis a piggyback ride because the ankle was probably twisted and Francis really couldn't walk even after many tries. Neither of them was satistied with this arrangement but it was the only thing they could do because Antonio and Gilbert were nowhere to be seen or heard.

"I'm slipping", Francis whined again, only God knows how many times he had done it already, and Arthur cussed under his breath, lifting the Frenchman to a better position. "How about now?"

"It's okay", Francis said, repositioning his arms around Arthur's neck. It was a long walk back home, atleast 15 minutes and Francis was getting really heavy. Not that Arthur would complain, Francis would just say that he's weak and that would lead to another pointless argument which he didn't really need.

"I think my buttcrack is showing", Francis noted, and Arthur laughed silently. "Why did you tell me that?"

"Small talk. Could you stop for a moment, as pretty as it is I don't want the world to marvel my bare arse", Francis said. Arthur stopped and let Francis slip down his grip. The Frenchman used his to support himself as he pulled his jeans up while standing on one foot. "This looks really stupid", Arthur muttered, glancing around if anyone saw them. "Well, you have a good experience in that area so you would know", Francis shot and grinned. The other blonde rolled his eyes. "Shut up, unless you want to crawl back home."

"Yeah yeah. Let's keep going, I want to get some painkillers or something."

Arthur took Francis on his back again and continued walking. Francis babbled about some nonsensical shit that Arthur let go past his ears. It wasn't until Francis kicked him he realised he was asked a question. "What?"

"I asked you why you asked if I had a dildo the other day."

"...What?"

"You know, when we were talking about stuff and you found out about my dildo."

"...Why are you asking me this?"

"Answer the question."

"I don't know! It was the first thing that popped on my mind. I wanted to get even. I didn't actually care if you had one, you know", Arthur explained, red colouring his cheeks. Francis sure knew how to make a conversation...

"So the first thing on your mind was if I had a dildo? What kind of a pervert are you?"

"What kind of a pervert are you?! I'm giving you a piggyback ride and you want to talk about your rubber cock!"

"It just popped on my mind!" Francis said, huffing behind Arthur's head. "If this makes you think about dildos, I will never give you a piggyback ride again."

* * *

Next week they went to see their mother in prison again. The little ones were excited, apart from Matthew, who didn't say a word, he just sat next to Lydia and watched their mother with a dark expression. She didn't notice that, or maybe she did, but ignored it as she continued to talk to Alfred, Jett and Sydney and pretend to be a motherly figure.

She had a strange smile on her face, and she promised to see them again as soon as she could.

Arthur had the chills.

* * *

**So yeah. Dildo talk. And...**

***slides across the room* SHIPTEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**

**I'm waiting for someone to get the references in the chapter titles. It's not that hard...**


	7. Punishment fits the crime

**Uhm. Last chapter was interesting. This isn't any better. Nudity. Lots of nudity.**

**Yeah.**

**Also it focuses a lot on the other people of the group; there's a reason for it. It will be revealed later.**

* * *

Francis' ankle was okay. It had just hit the ground in a bad angle and was a little off, all it needed was popping it back on the right place.

How very annoying that was for Arthur.

Atleast he now knew giving piggyback rides to Francis was a bad idea.

* * *

"Is mom going to be outta jail soon?"

Arthur froze. Alfred's blue eyes were staring his form on the bed, the boy standing at his door way. The older brother bit his lip, trying to focus on the book. "Not for a while, I think."

"When do you think she'll be out?"

"I don't know."

He didn't know. It was still uncertain, new stuff about the deaths of the two prostitutes popped up all the time.

The younger brother still stood at the doorway, restless movements indicating he wasn't done yet, that something bothered Alfred greatly. Arthur wasn't sure whether he should pretend to not notice that or find out. He wasn't sure he wanted to answer Alfred's questions.

"Do you care?" Alfred asked, voice insecure and bitter, making Arthur's heart clench and guilt twist his insides. Arthur turned his eyes to him. "Of course I do. Why are you asking me a thing like that?"

"Because you never talk to mom when we go see her and when you do, you're really quick and kinda rude and it hurts mom's feelings. You n-never talk about her here either-"

"Alfred-"

"You're like a robot around her, it's like you try to forger her! It's not right, it's wrong, you're really mean when you do that! She wants to talk to you!" tears began to fill Alfred's eyes, voice unstable for trying not to cry. Arthur put the book aside without marking the page and got up, hurrying to Alfred and kneeling down to face him, trying to reassure the boy by placing his hand on his shoulder. "No, it's not like that. I don't want to forget her, no, it's...complicated."

"B-but it doesn't h-have to be! Just talk to her!"

Arthur sighed. "I wish I could."

"Y-you can! Just open your m-mouth!"

"It's not that simple, Alfred", Arthur tried to explain, hoping the younger brother would understand his position. "I just...I don't know what I'd say to her. I don't want her to be sad because of my words."

Alfred wiped his wet cheeks to his sleeve. "But she'll be sad if you don't say anything."

"Sometimes things go that way."

"Do you hate mom?"

"No, I don't hate her, it's just...complicated."

Alfred clearly didn't want to accept Arthur's excuse of an explanation. They had very different ways to work their problems; Arthur was aloof and pessimistic, determined not to trust on anything to avoid disappointment, and Alfred was optimistic, he believed in better tomorrow, he believed he could make a difference, and he pushed all the bad things aside and pretended they never existed. Alfred was the hero of his own universe, he wanted to save the world from bad things.

Arthur was a bit envious, sometimes. Being happy all the time seemed nicer than being bitter.

"Will you speak with mom the next time we go see her?" Alfred asked. Arthur swallowed.

"Yes. I'll speak with her."

Alfred's face brightened and he hugged Arthur. "She'll be happy then", he smiled, satisfied with the promise. Problem solved, he could be happy again.

With Arthur, he wished things could be that simple to him too.

* * *

Francis talked about sex way too much.

And he asked way too personal questions.

Arthur hated it.

"No, I am not going to tell you how I lost my virginity!"

"Come on! I'll tell if you tell!"

"I don't want to know!" Arthur said and blocked his ears, cheeks reddening. Francis rolled his eyes. "It's not that big of a deal! I'm curious. Arthuuur, tell me", he purred, smiling and leaning just a bit too close. Arthur shuddered. "No fucking way. It's not your business!"

"Whose business it is, then?"

"Gee, I don't now, maybe it's a matter between me and the person I actually have sex with?" Arthur said, huffing loudly. Francis laughed.

"Oh come on, don't be such a party pooper! It's not like I'm going to spread it around the neighbourhood or anything."

"I don't want to talk about my sex life", Arthur said.

"Why?"

"Because, some things are fucking private! Some things I just want to leave be."

"Well that's certainly useful", Francis muttered, sarcasm in his voice. Arthur flipped him the bird and pretended he wasn't there, trying to work the blush on his cheeks away.

"So it's a matter between you and the person you sleep with?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"I slept with you."

"What?"

"When we were camping."

"Oh for Christ sake, I didn't mean it like _that_, and besides, we barely slept!"

"Busy night, wasn't it?"

Stupid conversations.

Stupid Francis.

Stupid French smirk.

Stupid blood circulation.

Arthur's blush wasn't fading anywhere, but the least he could do was to offer Francis a beating.

* * *

Tino's family had a summer house by a lake near the town, and he had managed to convince his parents to let him and his friends to stay there over the weekend (after promising there was going to be no alcohol or anything else or they'd feed him to their feisty little dog with a name too silly to remember). Arthur had been reculcant at first, awkward memory of the camping haunting his memory, but after being pestered by Francis, Gilbert and Antonio he finally forfeited and went along.

(Naturally, everyone was wary of the games Tino had in mind.)

The summer house was a very Finnish place, no TV, no shower and drinking water was in canisters that were filled back home and then taken there. Entertaiment was offered by swimming, fishing, playing a game called 'mölkky', drinking and fucking, as Tino put it, and washing was done in the lake. Tino insisted this was a common thing in Finland and very relaxing, something that the others had a hard time digesting.

Oh yes, then there was the sauna.

_The legendary sweatbox._

As soon as everyone had arrived there (except Roderich, as soon as he heard there was no water he refused to come), Tino had announced they were going swimming soon and he'd go heat up the sauna (and this led them to a short lesson of Finnish when people pronounced 'sauna' the wrong way and Tino apparently hates that). Since Tino, Elisaveta and Mathias were the only ones who had been in a real sauna before, people were quite excited.

That was, until, Tino said they would have to do it the proper way.

Proper way being the Finnish way.

Finnish way being naked.

Naturally, this aroused conversation.

"Are you fucking shitting us? There is no way I will go naked into that sweatbox with bunch of guys!" Lovino screamed.

"Oh come on! It's blasphemy to wear clothes in sauna!" Tino argued quickly. Mathias was grinning, eyeing Katyusha and Manon hungrily. "Indeed! Don't be afraid of a little sausagefest, Loviboytoy", he said. Lovino raised his middle finger, frowning at his so-called nickname. "I don't fucking want to see your dicks!"

"Don't be such a baby, Lovi. It can't be that bad", Elisaveta chimed in. Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, easy for you to say, you're a chick."

Francis smiled at the albino. "My, I didn't think you'd be so afraid of nudity, Gil, considering you're so into-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Gilbert blushed. Seeing where things were going, Tino interrupted the argument. "Okay, I have an idea. What if we vote to decide whether we shoud wear clothes or not?"

"Finally someone has a good idea", Arthur scoffed. Francis' eyes flicked from Gilbert to Arthur, a strange, intelligble look in them. Before Arthur could figure what that was about, Tino was speaking again.

"Okay, the ones who support going naked to sauna raise hands now."

Francis, Antonio, Elisaveta, Mathias and Tino stretched their arms. Manon was about to do the same, but Willem grabbed her hand and whispered something, making his younger sister roll her eyes and slap him. She didn't join though, and swimsuits won with one vote.

(No need to mention Elisaveta was sadder than she should've been.)

* * *

Even with swimsuits on, it was fucking awkward.

Sweating in a tiny room with a bunch of people practically plastered on you wasn't fun. Especially if you happened to sit between Francis and Antonio who were the two most touchy-feely people in the whole existance of the universe.

And the girls had announced they'd not join the guys in the sauna and they'd go in later somehow made it a whole lot worse.

Mostly because Elisaveta sat behind the glass door and grinned madly at the sight that was displayed infront of her.

What the fuck was wrong with her.

Strangely enough, Tino, who detested touching people at all times (a Finnish thing, Arthur assumed), didn't seem to mind the lack of personal space and slick moist skin. Infact, he was the one who was most comfortable with the whole situation, as the others were slightly (or even more than slighty) awkward. Mathias, who had done this before, was otherwise content, but having to sit next to Lovino is a major problem to anyone. As the Italian complained and swore, Antonio tried to cheer him up, but only made it worse, not that he noticed it of course. Willem and Gilbert were surprisingly quiet. Arthur would've wondered the reason if he hadn't been too busy arguing with Francis how he was too close.

Because he was. There was room to be further from him. Francis didn't think so, and he insisted he had no choice but to pretend he was a bandaid on Arthur's skin.

Fucking fantastic.

* * *

"You can't say that you've been swimming."

Arthur glared Francis. "Of course I can't say that. I dipped, just so I could wash off the sweat. I don't, and can't, swim."

"That's not the point. It's not even deep here, you can reach the bottom", Francis said, making a pouty face in the water. He was right, the water reached him to the chest, but Arthur was still reculcant. "I don't want to be in the water."

"So you're just going to sit on the pier and watch us swim?"

"I don't think you're actually swimming. If you pay attention to the others, they're currently trying to drown Gilbert and Mathias", Arthur said and pointed at the scenario that was a few meters from them.

"But I want you in the water", Francis whined, and Arthur looked at him, slightly surprised by the statement. "Why?"

"Because it's more fun. Duh."

"Or maybe you wish to drown me."

"There's only one way to find out", Francis smiled, nudging Arthur's foot. He frowned.

"I'm not coming."

"Oh come on, are you scared?"

"Hell no."

"Then why won't you come?"

"Because I don't want to!" Arthur insisted. Francis stuck his tongue out. "Liar. You're scared."

"Am not!"

"Then dive in!"

Arthur huffed, staring the Frenchman. Francis had that annoying look in his eyes, too determined for Arthur's liking. The blonde sighed. "Fine. I'll come in the water. But no fooling around, aye?"

"_Certainement_", Francis cooed, and Arthur concidered giving him the finger but refrained to do so. He descended into the water, the warmth of it surprising him a bit. "There. Are you happy?" he spat, glaring Francis. The Frenchman laughed. "Very. Now let's go drown Gilbert."

"What about Mathias?"

"He owes me money. I still need him."

* * *

Somehow Tino hadn't paid a single thought for sleeping arrangements.

There was 11 people there, and only 5 matresses. One person could sleep on the couch, but the others would have to share.

Mathias was very keen to share his bed with Katyusha, "like a proper gentleman would do". Elisaveta however, had another suggestion.

"What if we just play a game to see who gets to sleep where? It would be fair, you know. No one will be happy if we do it that way."

"No way, I'll end up sleeping with Gil. He likes to cuddle in sleep", Mathias argued.

"Oh, you have experience on that?" Arthur snickered. Mathias facepalmed as the others laughed. "Nevermind, do what you want. But I will not take responsibility if Gil is found dead tomorrow."

"You like my touch, don't deny it!"

The Dane and the German continued their argument as others just ignored them; they were too tired for this. Elisaveta wrote down everyone's names and shuffled them on the floor. She picked the first piece of paper. "On the sofa, there will be...Tino."

"Thank God", the Finn sighed. Willem, Lovino and Arthur groaned; they weren't too keen on the idea of sharing. Francis chuckled at the sight of Arthur being so visibly disappointed, and was pleased to find the other blonde blushing.

Elisaveta continued her chore. "First ones to share a matress are Mathias and Katyusha."

The first mentioned fell on his knees, reaching towards the sky. "There is a God! There is a God!" he praised, practically beaming. Katyusha giggled.

"Too bad, bro, I was waiting forward to see you sleeping", Gilbert teased. Lovino was kind enough to remind Gilbert he was already "fucking that pianobastard".

"Boys, boys, play nice; oh, I'm sharing with Manon", Elisaveta said, and Willem sighed in relief (seriously, he was too protective over his sister). Arthur realised his shitty situation; the ones who were left were Gilbert, Lovino, Willem, Antonio, Francis and him. It wouldn't matter who he ended up with, the outcome was uncomfortable. Gilbert and Antonio were both quite touchy-feely, Willem made Arthur uneasy just with his faint scent of marihuana, with Lovino it would end up in a heated argument and Francis...was Francis. With Francis it ended up with dildos.

(Why did he think of Francis' dildo and a matress. No. Eww.)

Elisaveta had two more notes in her hands. "Lovino will share with Gil", she smiled. Judging by Lovino's curses and Gil's, blush, neither of them were pleased with this arrangement.

"C'mon Lovi, it's not that bad. Gil loves everyone equally", Mathias grinned. Lovino tossed a pillow at him. "Go die, legobastard!" he screamed.

Arthur fidgeted nervously. He didn't want to share bed with anyone. Especially not Francis. He had had enough of that person.

Elisaveta grabbed two more pieces of paper, reading the names. "Oh, fate has joined the game once again. Arthur and Francis..."

"No", both of them said, watching the smily Hungarian in terror. "_Yes_", she said, and laughed.

Fucking fate.

Fucking Tino.

Fucking Elisaveta.

Fucking everything.

"I'll sleep on the porch", Arthur announced and fell on his back on the soft matress. Francis left the room. "Where are you going?" Antonio asked.

"Drown myself", the Frenchman replied.

* * *

Arthur didn't sleep on the porch and Francis didn't drown himself. Instead, the others managed to persuade them sleep peacefully next to each other promising they would never decide bed partners like this again, or anything else that matter, because they did not want to partner. Ever. And they always did.

What the fuck.

Night had come and the teens had drifted to sleep; Arthur was still awake. Their matress was next to the door, and a slight breeze disturbed him. Unable to catch any sleep, he found himself staring Francis.

The bloke had really nice hair.

Actually, Francis had the best hair Arthur had ever seen.

Fucking poof.

It wasn't like Arthur was jealous or anything; yes, it was true his hair was a monster untamed that refused to cooperate, but he didn't care. He had much more to worry about than his stupid hair. He had just noted Francis had really nice hair. That's it. And Francis had time to look after his mane, unlike Arthur. But, when you've always lived a happy life with nothing missing, you have time to look after things that aren't that important.

Funny how hair could tell so many things about them.

Arthur's fingers itched to touch that blonde hair, but Elisaveta's sudden whisper interrupted his doings.

"Kat, are you awake?"

"Yes", Katyusha answered, voice quiet. Manon giggled. "I can't believe were doing this."

"Be quiet, or the boys will wake up", Elisaveta whispered, and Arthur could see their figures in the dark, getting up and coming towards the door. Arthur closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He heard how someone opened the door and the girls sneaked outside, careful to not make any sound. He opened his eyes and sat up, turning around to peek from the window above him.

"I've never skinny dipped before", Katyusha said, and Arthur felt how his heart skipped a beat.

Jackpot.

Glancing around to see if anyone else was awake, he bit his lip. No way he'd let anyone know about this; it would lead in trouble. Luckily, the others were as awake as stones.

Except the frog next to him. Francis moaned, rubbing his eyes, and staring Arthur, confusion written all over his face. "What's going on?" he muttered, voice thick with sleep.

"Nothing. Be quiet and go to sleep", Arthur spat, trying to be as silent as possible. Francis frowned. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing."

"Liar", Francis whispered and sat up, moving so he was next to Arthur. The sight in the darkness of the night seemed to banish his sleepiness completely; the girls had gone to the pier and stripped completely. "Oh."

"Stay low and be quiet", Arthur instructed. Francis didn't need to be told twice. The boys quieted down, marvelling the sight that was displayed. "Amen", Francis whispered, and Arthur chuckled. "For once, I agree."

"I want to have a closer look."

"What?!"

"Shush. They won't see me, I'll be careful", Francis said and left the window. He opened the door carefully, just so he could crawl out. "Francis, you bloody prick, don't do that!"

Arthur's words were ignored, and Francis settled on the porch behind the rail so the girls couldn't see him. Arthur sighed heavily, and for reasons unknown to him, he followed the Frenchman and settled next to him. "You're an idiot."

"You followed the idiot. That makes you even more idiotic."

"Shush."

Silence followed, and only a faint trail of laugher was heard as the girls swam in the lake. But, like all good things, this had to come to an ending, and soon they were on the pier, getting dressed. "What a beautiful night this has been", Francis sighed, smiling at the other blonde, and Arthur rolled his eyes. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're trying to make a move on me."

"What if I am?", Francis said jokingly, and wiggled his eyebrows. Not amused by this, Arthur punched Francis on the shoulder, and the Frenchman lost his balance. He fell on his bottom with a thud, not loud, but loud enough to arouse attention at the pier.

"Oh my God-" Elisaveta's voice was heard, and Arthur let out a string of profanities. "They saw us!"

"Run", Francis said, and before Arthur realised the Frenchman had jumped over the rail and was in the woods.

Follow the idiot, he mused, and left.

* * *

Elisaveta is a fast runner.

Really fast.

Also she is rather strong.

This put together Arthur and Francis had no chance of escaping her wrath. The Hungarian was sitting on top of Arthur and headlocking Francis as Manon and Katyusha were glaring the boys rather angrily.

"That's just so fucking impolite", Manon said, earning a nod from Katyusha. Francis (like any Frenchman would) was immediately defensive. "Arthur started it!"

"You were the one to go outside!" the other blonde yelled, earning a nasty kick from Elisaveta. "Don't raise your voice. I don't want the others to wake up and neither do you."

"Yeah, I bet Willem isn't pleased to find out that you were watching his little sister skinny dipping", Manon said. Francis scoffed. "I bet he's not pleased to find out you were skinny dipping the first place."

"That's not the point here. The point is how to punish you two", Katyusha reminded. Arthur rolled his eyes. "We said we're sorry!"

"It's not enough!"

"We barely saw anything!" Francis joined in.

"You saw something, that's too much already", Manon said, and smiled. "Not to worry, I have just the perfect idea of a revenge. Let's go to the pier."

* * *

"Boxers off too. You have to be naked."

Manon's idea of a revenge turned out to be skinny dipping.

Fair enough.

Not that Arthur would oblidge immeaditely.

"Excuse me? No", he said, feeling too exposed already. The air was slightly chilly on his bare skin and the water didn't look too friendly either.

"Don't be such a baby. You saw us, we are allowed to see you. Chop chop", Manon hurried him as Elisaveta and Katyusha giggled beside them. Francis groaned. "Are you serious? Can't we just buy you some chocolate and be your slaves for a week?"

"Nope. Boxers off. What's the matter Fran, are you afraid? Is your body not like you claim it to be?" Elisaveta smiled. Obviously Francis was offended, because after a French profanity his boxers fell and he jumped into the water (making sure Arthur and the girls would get splashed). Katyusha and Manon laughed, but Elisaveta wasn't pleased yet.

"Come on Arthur. I want to see that tush."

"No!"

"Do you want Willem to sewer you? Just strip."

"Can't I just-"

"No."

Arthur groaned, deciding to give up. Elisaveta was obviously too stubborn to let the matter slide. With a loud sigh, Arthur quickly escaped from his boxers and jumped in the water with Francis, cheers echoing behind his back.

(Manon said something about his arse. Fantastic.)

The water was surprisinly warm, almost as warm as it had been during the day. It felt silly to be in the water without swimming gear, water flowing freely everywhere. Arthur wasn't certain if he liked that.

"Are you happy now?" Francis whined, looking at the girls. Manon smiled sweetly and kneeled down. "Almost, just almost...there is just one more thing."

"What? Do you want us to perform? Do a little dance?" Arthur spat. Manon answered with a laugh. "No, no...just remember to not wake anyone up when you come back."

With that, she grabbed their clothes and began to run away, followed by Katyusha and Elisaveta, laughing manically. Arthur and Francis stared them in awe as the girls headed towards the forest, tossing the clothes on the branches and bushes.

"Oh my fucking God!" Arthur managed to utter. Francis just stared, stunned.

"Why didn't I come up with that?" he muttered, and Arthur turned to his fellow victim. "Excuse me?"

Francis shrugged. "If we had done that, this situation would be so much better."

"Yeah, we would've been tackled by a naked Elisaveta full of rage and then be killed. That's so much better."

Francis rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter, atleast I got to see your arse."

"What?!"

"Nevermind, let's get our clothes", Francis said and climbed back on the pier.

Arthur certainly didn't think Francis' skin covered with small drops of water looked beautiful in moonlight.

Absolutely not.

* * *

Arthur decided he'd rather forget the events of that night when he got back home.

Lydia asked him what they had been doing; he said nothing special, and found himself stunned to not come up with a lie that would not arouse any suspicion, because he was experienced in that and 'nothing special' just screamed everything special.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, by the news on radio in Lydia's kitchen.

Three female convicts had escaped from jail.

The jail their mother was sitting in.

Arthur felt how fear creeped up his spine.

* * *

**Angstiful stuff, whole lot of crack, and BOOM, shit happens. I have a pattern.**


	8. Have you ever seen the rain

**This isn't one of the silly chapters.**

* * *

Francis had always been excellent at reading people. Ever since he was a little boy he always knew when it wasn't the time to annoy his parents, when was the time someone needed to be cheered up, when he should just shut up. This skill made him very talented in social life. Francis had always made new friends very quickly, though rarely long-lasting. Despite his charms and skills, Francis was rather vain and stubborn, and often that did not pay off. In a way, Francis was very selfish, and that was seen in his relationships; many times he had dated two people the same time.

It was a wonder how he managed to not lose his reputation and continue his life as the most romantic and charming guy in school.

However, if Francis managed to bond with someone properly, that relationship would last. His close group of friends knew this, and they appreciated the Frenchman's attention. Francis wasn't exactly the best boyfriend despite his romantic nature, but once you really got close to him he certainly was a trustworthy friend who knew what you were thinking.

But Francis was also very competive and proud; and when someone didn't like him at first sight, it made him very interested in this person.

Arthur Kirkland. When Francis first met him, he labeled Arthur as Lydia's rebellious relative who was a chainsmoker (bad teeth, what else could explain that) that was upset about something and rude because he wished to be alone. But, as they had talked, Francis noticed his assumption had been incorrect; Arthur was defensive yet proud, but Francis couldn't see the reason.

It didn't make sense. He always saw the reason. Always.

Intrigued by this new person, he had continued to study him, to find out who he was dealing with. But everytime he got closer, thought he knew what was going on, Arthur did something that proved him wrong again. Only when Arthur told him things he could see better, and Arthur didn't tell much.

It was like a game.

Arthur didn't let Francis close; the Frenchman had to sneak around and clutch to every word the other blonde said to get to know him. And even after six months, Arthur was an enigma who didn't want someone like Francis to know his weaknesses, his dark sides. Arthur's quick bonding to Katyusha was a proof of that; they knew each other's pasts, and protected each other from the public eye. Arthur didn't trust Francis to do the same.

Annoying and interesting.

So far Francis had found out Arthur was a proud, protective individual who did not let anyone too close. Arthur was talented to mislead people, and good with words. What more, it appeared arguing and fighting seemed to be the key to get closer to him.

No problem. Francis could do that. It was quite easy, considering they didn't get along very well.

Well. They didn't get along at all.

Well. They got along by not getting along.

Their relationship was a mess.

They spent too much time together to be enemies; they constantly denied their friendship. And a growing number of people just considered their relationship to be alike to and old married couple.

And then there were the people who claimed there was sexual tension between them.

Francis did not know where he fell on this matter.

* * *

Two days ago they had recieved the word that their mother had been one of the convicts that had fled from the prison. Arthur had literally felt his heart stop beating and blood freeze. The one thing he was afraid the most was happening.

He didn't want to break the bubble of happiness he had found for his siblings.

After a long conversation, Lydia and Arthur had come to the conclusion that they wouldn't tell the younger ones unless something critical happened. It was safer that way. The police had told them their mother might try to contact them. Arthur dreaded it.

* * *

Lydia was doing grocery shopping and had taken Sydney and Jett with her. Matthew and Alfred were on some kid's birthday party. Arthur was alone at home, and very happy about that. He was in the need of this. Very much in the need of this.

He had found himself a book to read and had retreated to the sofa in Lydia's living room. The words seemed empty and meaningless and it was hard to focus, his mind always seemed to find its way back to his mother. Arthur felt like he was suffocating; every time something was going good things turned to the worse, every fucking time.

Suddenly he realised he was crumpling the pages of the book. Arthur sighed and put the book aside, hoping Lydia wouldn't notice the damage. He closed his eyes and breathed, wishing all the problems in his life could just disappear. He wished, he wished he had always lived with Lydia and that his siblings had always been happy and safe, he wished he didn't know how to get rid of drugs in a minute, he wished he didn't know what it smelled like in a police car, what guns smelled like, he wished he didn't have to be wary all the time to not let his friends know what had happened in his past, hell, he even wished the biggest problem in his whole life was arguing with Francis.

But things weren't like that. They never were, they never would be.

And then, to break the silence in the most appropriate of all ways, the most bloodcooling of all ways, the phone in the corner of the living room rang.

Arthur had heard many kinds of sounds in the past; gang fights, violent crashes, screams that were suddenly silenced by a gunshot, the choking gurgle of a addict vomiting, but the broken sound of the phone was the scariest of them all. He looked at the phone, face pale, a million thoughts running through his mind and all of them too fast to comprehend.

Suddenly he wasn't very sure if he was in charge of his actions. Slowly he stood up, eyes never leaving the white phone, and walked to it, swallowing hard. He didn't know which was worse, to not answer or to answer, but seemingly his thoughts couldn't reach his body because he had already grasped he mouthpiece, lifting it next to his ear.

"Arthur Kirkland", he said, voice shaky and insecure. He didn't want to hear who was on the other side, but the same time he felt like exploding, wanting to be let out of the pain of ignorance-

"Hi Artie", the broken, all too familiar voice said.

It was her.

"Mum", he breathed out, all the things that were on his mind shattering and falling on the floor, disappearing, being replaced by the fragile reality that he was living.

"Artie", she repeated, and Arthur could see her smile, lopsided, insecure, delusional. He closed his eyes. "I've missed you so much", she said, a careful laugh following the words. "It's been a hell for me."

"Mum, what are you doing?" Arthur asked. He heard a sigh on the other end. "I can't stay in the prison, Artie. I need to see you kids. I just miss you so much...I can't stay. It's eating me alive. I've just found myself craving for hugs and the good old days with you kids."

Arthur swallowed. "You broke out of jail, you idiot. That's stupid, and dangerous."

"I know, I know. I just wanted to see you kids, Artie. I love you."

He sighed, feeling weak in the knees. "You're crazy. Where are you even? The police is after you-"

"I'm in a gas station, 150 miles up north from there. Susie, my mate, had unfinished business to do so we came here-"

"Mum, do you realise what you are doing?"

She huffed. "Yes, I do. I'm not stoned. I know this is dangerous. I don't care. I want to see you kids, and take you back, I want to make up the things I've done in the past. I'll stop drug use completely, for real, I tell you that, and focus on you kids. I will get a proper job and bake and take you to school and beaches and carnivals and everything that. I will do that, Artie, I promise you..-."

Arthur stayed silent. Her words were like honey, he wanted to say 'yes, I believe you, come here and we'll do all that', he really did, but he knew better; he had heard them before. He knew they were empty. He knew he'd only hurt everyone if he believed her.

Better to make the damage as small as possible.

"No", he said, cutting her off. "You're not going to do that. You try, for a while it works, and then it just crumbles down again."

She didn't answer. Arthur bit his lip.

"Artie, it's not going to be like that this time. This time I mean it."

"You said it last time too. And every time before that", Arthur spat.

"Artie, I love you, and I love Syd and Jett and Al and Mattie too, I want to be with you, I want to do this-"

"I know you love us! But we're doing great. We're happy, mum. All of us. I don't want to break this. Lydia knows how to take care of us. You don't."

"Arthur-!"

"I'm sorry mum. I love you but..."

And that moment Arthur made the hardest decicion of his life.

"If you keep on that track, don't call us. Don't contact us ever again. Don't fuck our lives."

"Arthur, don't you dare-!"

"I love you, mum. I really do. But I can't risk this. Good bye."

"Arthur-!"

He put the mouthpiece back in it's place. Silence surrounded him.

Arthur had just abandoned his own mother.

The reality of the situation felt overpowering and Arthur found himself on the floor, a suffocating feel in his throath.

* * *

Arthur didn't say a word of what happened to Lydia. She didn't need to know. It was better that way. No one had to know. He had simply said he didn't feel good and had had retreated into safety of his room, and stayed there until he was certain everyone was asleep. It was then when he found himself walking quietly in the silent house, down the stairs, towards the solace of the patio.

It was night, there would be no one to see him, or to hear him, he told himself.

The backdoor opened with a creak, and Arthur slipped outside. The air was cool, occasional breeze brushing past him. Arthur closed the door carefully and sighed, feeling heavy and weak inside. He let go of the handle and sat down in the dark, leaning on the wall.

He had abandoned his own mother.

_His own mother._

Arthur drew his legs close and buried his face into his hands. He was a sick, horrible person.

He didn't know how long he stayed there; maybe five minutes, maybe half an hour. Time seemed to warp and lose its meaning. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by familiar footsteps and a shadow casting over him.

"What's wrong?" Francis asked, voice genuinely worried. Arthur didn't know whether he should answer or give Francis the bird; he did neither, he just sat and didn't turn to face Francis.

"Arthur?"

Still no answer. Francis stood there for a moment, probably debating on whether he should leave or stay. Eventually he sighed and sat down next to Arthur, eyes drilling into Arthur's skull.

"What's wrong?" Francis repeated his question, and Arthur sighed. Francis didn't need to know what he had done, but Arthur wanted, needed to tell. Tell someone who wouldn't be affected. He drew a shaky breath, keeping his eyes on the ground.

"Mum called."

He noticed Francis go tense.

"Mum called", he repeated, voice steadier now, "she had escaped from prison. She called to tell she wanted to see us. To come and take care of us", he said. He let out a nervous laugh. "She sounded so happy and excited and real. She said she loved us and missed us and...she said all those nice things I wanted to hear but feared for."

Arthur turned his head, facing Francis. "And guess what I said to her. Guess, Francis."

The Frenchman's blue eyes seemed suddenly very dark in comparison to his pale skin. Arthur smiled, for a reason he couldn't figure.

"I told her to stay away."

And that moment all the walls broke, the walls that had kept Arthur steady and strong crumbled down, and tears stained his cheeks for the first time in years.

"I told her to stay away. My own mother. I told her to not come to our lives anymore, to let us be happy and-and...-", Arthur sobbed, inable to hold himself from breaking down. "And then I hung up. _I abandoned her._"

Arthur let out another strangled laugh as Francis stared him, baffled by the situation. "Look at me, Francis. I'm crying. I haven't cried for years. It doesn't- It doesn't make sense. I shouldn't cry. I- I'm a horrible person, and I-I shouldn't be able to cry. Only h-horrible people abandon t-their family. And they do-don't cry about it", he rambled, sobbing cutting his words. Arthur felt weak, exposed, and he couldn't help it; he didn't want to show his weakness to Francis, but he couldn't act strong anymore. He tried to wipe his tears, only to notice they were replaced by new ones.

"You're not horrible", Francis whispered. "You're not horrible."

"I am", Arthur argued, wiping his face.

"You're not. You're strong, Arthur. You...you did the right thing", Francis said.

Arthur didn't know if those were the right words; nevertheless, they were the words that took down the remaining shields and he lost all control, inable to talk. All the pain from the years, every tear, they were now on the surface and coming out, and Arthur could not stop it. He cried.

Francis wrapped his arm around Arthur and let him wet his shoulder, cry away the dark memories.

* * *

**I've been planning this chapter ever since I first got the idea for this fic, and still, it was difficult to write. I'm glad I'm over this one though.**


	9. Every day I die a little

**Well. A quick update. I was inspired or something. Things get thingier.**

* * *

After that day Arthur became even more aware of himself. He was careful not to say anything about the phone call, or anything that could give him away. He was, in the end, extremely ashamed of himself. He felt bad, he felt sick. He was afraid that if Lydia knew what he had done she would be angry, and wouldn't forgive him. Forgiveness was exactly what Arthur needed; but when you don't tell anyone, you can't find it.

Well. He had told Francis. But Francis' forgiveness wasn't what he was looking for. Francis wasn't meant to be used for that.

Probably.

* * *

"Why haven't we visited mum for a long time?"

Jett's question caught him off guard. They were the only ones up, eating breakfast during Saturday morning and the others were still sleeping. Jett's eyes were staring Arthur, no malice or doubt in them, just the sweet ignorance of the situation.

It was still too much like an accuse for Arthur.

"I don't know", he lied, avoiding eye contact. Jett didn't approve the answer.

"It has been a really long time since we last saw her. I miss mum", he said. Arthur bit his lip. "I miss her too", he said, perhaps too quickly, because a flash of confusion visited Jett's face.

He's eight, Arthur rationalised. Jett wouldn't figure it out.

"Will we ever move back with mum?" the younger brother asked. Arthur was quiet for a while, choosing his words wisely. "I don't know. Do you want to do that?"

Jett didn't answer right away. The boy looked kind of guilty as he casted his eyes on his cereal plate.

"Am I a bad person if I say I don't?" he said, not looking at Arthur. The older brother sighed.

"Trust me, you're not."

* * *

"The others are asking why you're not hanging with us after school anymore."

Francis' words weren't meant to be an accusion, but they sounded like one. Arthur glared the Frenchman.

"You know damn well why I don't", he spat. They were walking back from school, after a long time. Arthur had already forgotten the usual routine of it.

"But they don't", Francis answered. "What am I supposed to say to them?"

"I don't know. I don't care. I have bigger issues to worry."

A thick silence formed between them. Arthur was cross, Francis wasn't any better.

"If you had some fun instead of dwelling in your problems maybe you wouldn't feel so miserable", Francis said, voice low and aggressive. Arthur shot an icy look towards him.

"Sod off. You don't know a shit", he muttered.

"I'm just saying, it would help. My friends were there for me when Jeanne died; thanks to them I survived."

"No one has died!"

Yet.

Arthur quickened his pace, hoping to get away from Francis as soon as possible. Much to his dismay, the Frenchman followed his example, not letting him escape.

"Don't isolate yourself. It's not a smart thing to do."

"I'm not isolating myse-"

"You are. You refuse to talk about things. You avoid people. That's isolation. It won't lead you out of the problems", Francis said. Arthur stopped and turned around to face him.

"Oh yeah? Then what will? Tell me that, git, and I'll fucking do it! I don't want any of this shit in my life. I don't fucking know what I should do, but I am not going to ruin anyone's life with my bleeding misery!"

Francis didn't answer. Arthur stared at the other blonde, waiting for something. It never came.

Arthur turned around and continued walking.

"You're not using me as your punching bag anymore", Francis noted. Arthur pretended he didn't hear it.

* * *

Arthur wasn't oblivious to his surroundings. He could see what people were thinking. He knew that Lydia knew something wasn't right. She asked questions, and every time Arthur answered something neutral, and he could see the doubt in her eyes. Why she didn't confront Arthur, that was was simply because she couldn't. She was afraid of angering him, afraid that Arthur might not trust her anymore. That was faulty. Arthur loved and trusted her with his life, and didn't want her to be upset; but the same time, he knew if he told her what had happened she would judge him and get angry. Lose trust.

Lydia wasn't a mother, not even if she should've been. She was the aunt. Aunts were wonderful, magical people who were nicer than mothers and didn't anger kids. That was the simple truth; Lydia acted by it. Arthur didn't blame her. She hadn't been an aunt for years, and when she finally got the chance for that, it was a mother that the children were in need of. She couldn't fill that position.

That's how they lived; the aunt and the children. There was no one to blame for that.

* * *

Manon caught Arthur on Wednesday after school.

"We're going to hang out in the school yard today, and you're coming with us", she announced, eyes stern. Arthur tried to ignore her look and excuse himself.

"I have homework to do-"

"You're smart, you can cover that later. You're coming with us now", she said and dragged Arthur to the others. There was some sort of fight between Gilbert and Mathias, the two of the were rolling on the ground playfully trying to beat the living shit out of the other. It didn't stop when Manon and Arthur arrived, it slowed down just enough so everyone could note their presence.

"Eyebrowbastard is back", Lovino said, earning a grim look from Arthur. "Pastabastard hasn't changed", he shot back.

"Don't start that again, you two", Elisaveta interrupted the well-began argument, smiling. "It's nice to see you, Arthur. It has been a while."

"I've been busy", he said, not entirely lying. It didn't seem to satisfy the others.

"Have you had your pimp business going on or what?" Mathias managed to shout from the ongoing fight. Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't have a pimp business!"

"Yes you do, and one day I will prove this!"

"Go suck a cock."

"If you could arrange that, please."

Arthur looked at Mathias wrestling with Gilbert for a while.

"Gilbert", he said, "I'll give you a twenty if you manage to make his nose bleed."

Two minutes later Gilbert wasn't broke anymore.

(Twenty minutes after that he was.)

* * *

"You're less angry", Francis said when they were walking back from school. Arthur didn't answer.

"I told you it would help to be with others", the Frenchman continued.

"Shut up. I didn't even talk about it", Arthur argued.

"I know. But I never said you should talk about it. I said you shouldn't isolate yourself."

"How do you know you're right? What if I just happen to have a better day?"

"I know, because you were smiling back there. A genuine smile. You haven't smiled for real for ages", Francis said. Arthur huffed.

"For a reason, you know."

"Do you admit my advice was helpful?" Francis asked.

Their eyes met.

"Never."

"Figures."

* * *

Arthur found Lydia from the kitchen when he got home. She was sitting at the table, and there was something horribly off in her; the usual cheery feel around her was gone. It was replaced by a thick, dark gloom that made Arthur feel horribly anxious.

"Lydia?"

She lifted her head, and apparently she hadn't noticed Arthur's arrival. A hint of surprise flashed through her pale face. Arthur couldn't believe his eyes; Lydia's eyes were red and puffy, indicating she had been crying, and her usually smooth and pretty hair was messy, stressed.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked, worry and fear creeping up his spine. He tossed his bag to the corner and sat next to Lydia, grasping her hand.

"Arthur", she breathed out, voice shaky. "I-I just got a call from the police."

Arthur stiffened.

"Your mother is dead."

Arthur's time stopped for a moment, and then it's sort of blurry.

* * *

_She's dead_

_Alfred you couldn't have done anything_

_Arthur stop it_

_I'm fine_

_Where's Matthew_

* * *

There's two weeks of haze after the incident in the kitchen; Arthur can't remember what has happened. The only clear image he has from those days is the funeral. Only six people attended, Lydia and the kids, but no one was invited so it was only logical. It was a cold day, colder than the others. Sydney hadn't put up the slightest fight when Lydia asked her to put on her black dress. No one had fought. Barely anyone had talked. They couldn't.

She died in a police shooting. Along with her escape mates, she had been hiding in an abandoned house. The police had found out, and ambushed them. One of the escapees was a three-time murderer, a dangerous one, and had decided they'd put up a fight; they did. Their mother was the only one who died in that shooting.

Arthur didn't understand why he thought it was horribly wrong.

* * *

_Don't force them there_

_it wasn't Jett's fault_

_we have a right to be upset_

_I lost a sister_

_Matthew hit me_

* * *

Suddenly Arthur snapped out of the haze.

He was in the school psychologist office, sitting on the gross orange plastic chair. The ceiling fan created a lazy breeze in the heavy aired room. Apparently the psychologist had asked something, because she had a waiting look on her face. Arthur blinked and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I wasn't listening."

The brownhaired woman sighed almost unnoticed, and asked the question again.

"I said, is there any chance you are blaming this on yourself?"

Was there any chance he wasn't.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably on the chair, avoiding her studying eyes. He didn't answer.

"Arthur, I know this is hard, but your mother's death wasn't your fault-"

"Damn right it was."

"It's common that children take the blame on themselves in these kind of situations, but really, it wasn't your fault-"

"It was. Don't argue with me, because you don't know a shit."

"Arthur", her voice was calm but stern, and if you listened carefully you could hear a little bit of annoyance in it, "I understand you are angry and sad. It's okay. You are allowed to feel that way. I just want you to understand it was not your fault that she died."

But it was. Arthur had abandoned her. If he had been listening to her, if he had promised to see her, she would be alive. She wouldn't have been hiding in some building and there wouldn't been a shoot-out and...

It was his fault.

"You don't know anything. You're just repeating words from a book you read ages ago. It was my fault", Arthur said. The psychologist sighed, trying to keep calm. "Arthur-"

He didn't want to listen anymore. He stood up and left the room, loudly banging the door shut. He had to get away from there. To think through things. Or maybe to avoid that. He didn't know.

It was his fault.

* * *

"Are you blind or something?"

Arthur hadn't expected to bump into Francis; and quite literally bump. The Frenchman had come from behind the corner straight into his way.

"Make way", Arthur hissed and tried to get pass. Francis stopped him. "Whoa there. Why aren't you in class?"

"I'm seeing bloody the psychologist."

"But her office is that way."

"I know. That's where I'm coming from."

Francis blinked a few times. "I see the wittyness is back", he said, a surprised tone in his voice. Arthur looked at him, confused. "What?"

"You were a fucking zombie for two weeks. Talking to you was rather dull", Francis enlightened him. Arthur rolled his eyes. "I had a good reason to."

"Don't you always?"

"Let me go or I'll castrate you", Arthur spat and shoved Francis out of his way. The Frenchman did not approve, and grabbed his arm.

"Don't you think I'm letting you go that easy."

"You really want to get rid of your testicles, don't you?" Arthur threatened, not the least bit joking. Francis ignored the aggressive sound.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Arthur turned his head to face Francis. "Sure, that's why I am escaping the psychologist. What do you think, frog?"

Francis frowned. Arthur yanked his arm out of Francis' grip.

"Why aren't you in class?" he asked. Francis shrugged.

"Didn't feel like going."

"That's responsible."

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Actually yes, you're bothering me now that you're not in class", Arthur said. Francis answered this by sticking his tongue out.

"That's mature", Arthur scoffed. Francis snorted. "Aren't we always?"

Arthur managed to crack a smile for the briefest second. A wall of silence formed between them. Arthur felt suddenly very light and normal.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Francis asked again, this time in a friendlier way. Arthur bit his lip, thinking.

"No", he said. "But I'd like someone to look after me that I won't do anything stupid", he admitted. Francis smiled.

"I can do that if you want."

"You'd do it even if I didn't."

"True."

"That's a strange way to annoy me."

"Yeah. Annoy you."

Arthur tried to ignore the strange sound in Francis' voice.

* * *

"You've been rather snappy lately", Lydia said. Arthur frowned. "I have a reason to."

"I know, I know. But...I think you should talk about it to someone. I know the school psychologist is a no-"

"Damn right."

"-but you shouldn't dwell in your emotions. You should talk to someone", Lydia said. Arthur looked at her. She seemed older, more tired. He felt guilty.

"Like who?" he asked. Lydia shrugged. "You seem to get along with Francis-"

"No."

"No?"

"No. We don't get along."

"Really now?" she asked, sarcastic doubt dripping from her voice. "You do spend awfully lot time with him."

"It doesn't mean anything."

"I think it means many things."

"What are you implying?" Arthur asked, beginning to grow annoyed. Lydia smiled slightly and turned around. "Nothing", she said, laughed innocently and left the room, leaving Arthur baffled.

* * *

"That's so not cool", Mathias whined. Arthur didn't really care, but it bothered him that Mathias didn't close his mouth while eating.

"What's not cool?" he sighed. Mathias pointed towards the other end of the cafeteria table, where a disgustingly sweet aura of love was present. "That. Coupling in a group of friends is so not cool", Mathias said. Arthur rolled his eyes. "You say that only because Katyusha chose Lovino instead of you."

Mathias shrugged. "Well, maybe, but it's still wrong."

"What's wrong?" Francis asked as he sat down. Arthur didn't even bother to look at the Frenchman.

"Coupling in a group of friends", Mathias explained and stuffed his mouth full with bread. Arthur groaned. "Shut your mouth when you eat!"

"There's nothing wrong with love", Francis argued and smiled at the lovey-dovey couples at the other end of the table (well, there was nothing lovey-dovey in Gilbert and Roderich, but Manon and Antonio did a pretty good job covering them).

"There is! It's not fair to the ones who are single and despairing", Mathias whined. Arthur rolled his eyes. "We did not need to know you're horny, twat."

"Oh come on Artie, don't be such a prude-"

"Don't call me that", Arthur hissed, glaring Mathias icily. He did not want to hear that nickname; he never wanted, it was what his mother called him and no one else did, no one else was allowed. Mathias quieted down, realising Arthur was serious. They fell silent. Arthur casted his gaze down like his lunch was suddenly the most intriguing thing in the whole universe.

"Well", Francis coughed, "I think there's nothing wrong in coupling. Besides, if Katyusha had chosen you, you wouldn't complain", he laughed. Mathias stuck his tongue out.

"That's what your boyfriend said" he muttered. Arthur and Francis went grim.

"What?" Francis asked, voice low.

"Oh come on, you two are basically another couple. You fight like you've been married for ages."

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" Arthur shrieked. Mathias raised his hands to cover himself incase of a sudden attack. "Whoa, no need to get worked up, dude."

"Has Elisaveta brainwashed you?" Francis asked, looking at Mathias like he was a filthy animal.

The following argument proved a few things.

Firstly, Mathias had been brainwashed.

Second, Arthur and Francis did fight like an old married couple.

Third, fighting in cafeteria led to a conversation with the principal.

* * *

"That went well", Francis spat out sarcastically as they walked back home from school. Arthur didn't answer.

"You know, it would've been much easier if you had spoken with words that contain more than one syllable. I had to come up with a good excuse and everything. You didn't do a shit. That's not polite, you know. What happened to that gentleman you claim you are?"

Still, no answer. Arthur noticed Francis began to grow annoyed.

"And now you're upset with me? Fucking great. You know, you're like a woman with a really bad PMS. I don't understand how I can put up with your fits-"

Arthur hit Francis on the chin. Hard.

Before Francis could register the out-of-the-blue attack, Arthur grabbed his jacket collar and pushed him back-first on the ground, straddling him. Francis stared Arthur, eyes wide.

"What are you doing?!" he yelled. Arthur stared Francis, green eyes locked in the blue ones.

"It doesn't matter how much I beat you, it's not enough..." he whispered, grip tightening. Francis looked at Arthur in confusion.

"It's not enough anymore, I still feel bad after that. It's not fucking enough", Arthur said.

And it was true; At first fighting Francis had been his way out of anxiety, his sedating drug that made him feel better, and that's why he continued. His twisted friendship with him was just an accidental product of that. But, the more he fought with Francis, the more he needed.

And suddenly it wasn't enough. Their fight in the cafeteria wasn't enough.

His drug didn't work.

Arthur's breath was uneven as the realisation hit him fully. His grip loosened a little and his shoulder's slumped. Francis' eyes were soft, curious, compassionate, and Arthur felt suddenly very tiny and vulnerable.

"Maybe", Francis said, a long pause following, leaving Arthur wary. Francis licked his lips.

"Maybe you need a different approach."

Francis didn't say it, but Arthur understood exactly what he meant. He stared Francis, and became very aware of how close he was to him, how close their faces were, and how easy it would be. Francis had practically given him the permission. Francis did not oppose.

It frightened Arthur, and he let go of Francis' collar and stood up, quickly leaving Francis lay on the ground.

He couldn't believe he let himself think about it more than two seconds. Francis was annoying, a twat, a bleeding moron, and even if he had offered Arthur some peace and kindness and had been there for him when he had needed, and even if he was fun and good-looking, and even if he never let Arthur feel like an outsider in the group, and even if always knew how to cheer him up-

_Shit._

_Shit._

_Shit._

* * *

**Like I said...things get thingier. Yikes. Queen of shiptease here. I'm sorry things had to end like this for the mother (quite a few of you wished things would be better), but the story goes like this. Also I am a detestable bastard.**

**Also, still waiting for someone to catch the joke in the chapter titles.**


	10. No one is innocent

**Hello. I have your daily dose of feels here. Enjoy. Oh, a little shoutout to IceCreamDestruction for catching the references in chapters! They're song titles by various punk bands, I'll list them down later in the final chapter.  
**

* * *

It wasn't not right.

It wasn't not even close.

Arthur shouldn't feel that way; And he probably didn't, he reasoned. It's all probably just because he was a mess, his life was a mess and he didn't know what to do, and he searches for comfort in other people, and that' it. He kept repeating that, and almost convinced himself, but then he remembered the meaning of the word "probably" and the carefully built lie crumbled, and he found himself as hopeless and scared as before.

He had fallen for his friend.

Francis, of all people.

And what worse, Francis had fell for him, too.

That made things even worse; Arthur knew Francis. The Frenchman was initiative, and if he wanted someone, he always somehow ended up having them. Arthur also knew Francis couldn't stay in a relationship for a long time. That was a good thing, but somehow it didn't make Arthur any happier.

He didn't want things to roll like that.

* * *

The next two weeks were full of hiding and escaping. Arthur avoided Francis in all ways, and most of the time Francis did so too. It was awkward for both of them. They didn't talk, and during classes they avoided eye contact, but sometimes Arthur noticed how Francis' eyes escaped to his way, carefully studying him, and he didn't know how to feel about that; It wasn't good, it wasn't good at all, but somehow, it made him feel lighter, kind of happy.

And that lead to a huge identity crisis.

Fucking fantastic.

It was fucking twisted and wrong.

Their situation was not unnoticed by the group. Many strange looks were given by the sudden lack of arguments. Even Lovino, usually uninterested by other people's problems, was confused. No one comforted them though; Maybe they noticed something wasn't right and it was better to stay out of it. Arthur felt kind of relieved by that.

Then one day Manon and Elisaveta grew tired of the silence.

After biology class the girls dragged Arthur with them to a dim and safe corner (for Arthur, it seemed pitch-black and very unsafe). Questioning eyes looked at him, rising anxiety.

"What?" he asked, trying to sound less nervous. Manon folded her arms.

"There's something going on with you and Francis."

"No shit."

"Are you two in a fight?" Elisaveta asked.

"No", Arthur said quickly, and it was true. They didn't buy it.

"Really now", Manon said dryly. "Why aren't you two talking to each other? It's strange."

Arthur didn't answer. Manon's and Elisaveta's eyes were drilling into his, and he turned away so he wouldn't face them.

"Is there something we don't know?" Elisaveta asked. Arthur scoffed. "There's a lot of things you don't know", he said and walked away, escaping into the mass of students.

* * *

"Where are the others?"

Their usual table in the cafeteria was almost empty, apart from Willem. The fair-haired teen shrugged. "Don't know. Probably still in gym. You skipped it too?"

"Naturally", Arthur said. He glanced around to see if anyone else was there, but didn't notice anyone, and sat down reculcantly. To be honest, he felt a little uncomfortable with Willem. Sure, Willem was nice and more level-headed than most of the others, but his drug use made Arthur very nervous, bringing back memories he'd rather forget. There was a familiar scent of weed around Willem, faint, but still there, like it was meant to remind Arthur of the broken lights and slow, irrational dancing. But, he didn't have much of a choice, so he had to bear with the "Flying Dutchman". It wasn't like he couldn't act like it was nothing, he had pretty vast experience in that department and this was nothing.

"You've been kind of tense lately", Willem noted casually. Arthur bit his lip. "Funny, I thought I'm always tense."

"Even more so. What's your problem?"

"Life", Arthur answered, and quietly laughed at the teen-angsty response. Willem studied him closely.

"What part of life? I have one too, there's many parts that are crap."

"I doubt you have one like mine."

"So there's many crappy parts?"

"You could say so", Arthur said, careful to not go too deep. If this was Willem's idea of small talk, the boy had to be educated.

"What's the thing between you and Francis?" Willem asked after a short break. Arthur frowned.

"Nothing."

"Really now", Willem said dryly.

"You sound just like your sister."

"Shit."

Arthur didn't continue the conversation as he suddenly found deep fascination in his lunch. Willem however, seemed to think Arthur's life was more interesting than the creepy potato-like things on his plate.

"You know, I could give you some 'good stuff' if it would help...", he said, careful not to say it out too loud.

Arthur almost dropped his fork.

It wasn't because of the offer. Because it actually seemed like a good idea to him.

Well, drug use was not a good idea. Arthur knew it better than anyone. It led only to trouble. Big trouble. But he also knew the benefits of it, after having to watch his mother for 15 years. The utter relaxation and freedom of responsibility. Artificial joy and laughter. Lightness of mind.

It seemed tempting and beautiful.

Arthur's eyes found Willem's. "Are you serious?" he asked, voice low.

Willem nodded.

One time couldn't hurt anyone.

Willem gave Arthur a small package, unnoticed by the eyes around them.

* * *

It wasn't like Arthur hadn't done it before.

First time was when he was 14 and skipping school in order to take care of his sick mother. She had fallen asleep, and there was a joint she had forgotten on the table. Arthur had stared it, debating on whether he should just leave it be, flush it down to the toilet or take a look in his mother's life.

The latter one won.

That time had been safe; the younger siblings were in school and Arthur was clear before they came back home. No one had ever found out, and he had felt better.

The second time was in school two months later. Arthur's sort-of friend had a few joints, and they, along with some other students Arthur doesn't remember, proceeded to have a "party" while skipping gym. They didn't get caught, and Arthur remembers the lightness of the day.

It would be just once, and that's it.

It would be just like the first time, a quick eye-opener for him. A peek through the keyhole. He wanted to remember what it was like. He wanted to be closer to his mother. This was the best way.

* * *

Arthur made sure his siblings wouldn't be there. Matthew and Alfred were at a sleepover, and Jett was out playing with Michelle. Sydney was downstairs watching television, like always after dinner. Lydia wasn't a problem, she was out shopping for groceries. He was safe. No one would ever know what he had done, except Willem, and he had nothing to say about Arthur's one time.

Arthur opened the drawer box that he had hidden his lighter in. The joint was on his desk, patiently waiting for him. He swallowed, briefly thinking of getting rid of it and forgetting the whole thing. It would be the smart thing to do, and he should just abandon his whole plan. But he didn't want to. Arthur was too far already. There was no turning back.

After a short moment of psyching himself, calming his breath, he took the lighter out of the drawer and placed it next to the joint. He was going to do this. For his mother's memory. For himself.

He exhaled heavily, muttering some words of couragement to himself, and took the joint, placing it between his lips. It was ridiculous how familiar it was, how natural it was from him, but when you grow up with those rainbow rolls you get to know how to use them, even if you don't want to. His hand found the lighter and he flicked the little button, a small flame showing up-

Footsteps.

A knock on the door. The sound of the handle.

What the fuck-

_no_

"Arthur, I just wanted to ask you-" Lydia opened the door, peeking carefully and immeaditely noticing the pale face of Arthur, caught. Her voice faltered, and she stared at him, eyes wide and shock storming in them. Arthur froze.

"Is that...", she managed to say, swallowing hard. Arthur didn't answer; he couldn't.

Fuck.

"Arthur, is that what I think it is?" she said, more firmly this time. Still no answer. She huffed, covering her face with her hands.

"Oh my God. Arthur, what the hell are you doing?"

* * *

Arthur knew it was stupid.

Arthur knew it would lead in trouble.

Arthur knew he might be found out, even if he did everything he could to cover himself.

Arthur knew Lydia was right, that he wasn't thinking straight.

Arthur knew he shouldn't have gotten angry over that.

But he did.

He didn't care that it was stupid and troubling and dangerous and irresponsible and all that. Arthur didn't care that he wasn't thinking straigth. Arthur wanted to feel a connection with his mother, and he couldn't find any other way. When Lydia said he should talk about it, he just lost it. She didn't understand. Hell, Arthur himself didn't understand it either.

They fought. It ended up with Lydia crying and Arthur storming off, out of the house.

* * *

To make things even better, it had started raining. Arthur had wandered around the neighbourhood, eventually tiring himself. When the rain reached him he had found a a bus stop to save him from getting wet. So there he was, sitting on the bench at an empty bus stop in the late evening.

How familiar that was to him.

He didn't feel like going back home; It seemed too difficult, having to face Lydia. He didn't want to see her, not after that fight. She didn't understand, and Arthur had been horribly rude to her, and he still was too angry to continue the conversation. He just wanted to forget the whole thing and sleep his problem away.

Not that he should. He'd probably catch the flu if he slept outside. It was quite cold out there, and the rain didn't help at all. But it seemed like he didn't have much of a choice. He hugged himself, trying to warm up.

Why did he never learn to take a jacket with him.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He felt bad, worse than usual. He wished he hadn't been stupid and taken the joint in the first place. He wished he hadn't tried to smoke it at home. So many things could've been done in other ways, but he ended up choosing the worst, like he wanted to get caught and get more trouble in his already fucked-up life.

Arthur didn't even notice the bus that slowed down and stopped, nor the person who jumped out of it, until his name was said.

"Arthur?"

The all-too familiar voice seemed to appear every time he had reached a new rock-bottom. Arthur looked up, and saw Francis standing infront of him, in his gym clothes, hair tied back. He must've had his dance lesson. Arthur stared at his neighbour, inable to comprehend how his life seemed to fall down and mutate like this all the time; One problem after another, and then there's one of the old ones again. Simply ridiculous.

"Why are you here?" Francis asked, worry in his voice. Arthur didn't say anything, and Francis realised something must've happened. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Arthur sighed and shook his head, turning his gaze down. "No, I'm not", he said. Francis sat down next to him, and Arthur noticed the brief hesitation when Francis wondered how close he should, or could, be, and it made him even more miserable.

"What happened?" the Frenchman asked. Arthur bit his lip, debating whether he should tell him just a little bit, or everything, neither seeming too appealing for him.

"I had a fight with Lydia", he muttered eventually.

He fidgeted, waiting for extra questions, but they never came; Arthur decided to continue, taking the silence as a sign of Francis listening.

"It was really stupid. I mean, it's mostly my own fault, but I've been feeling so shitty lately and everything's been such a mess I just wanted to forget and escape it...there could've been another way, but I chose the worst, because I'm such an idiot."

"What did you do?" Francis asked quietly, fear of the worst obvious. Arthur sighed.

"Willem gave me a marijoint, and I was about to smoke it but Lydia caught me", he explained. "It was so stupid. She got angry and then I got angry and then we just..."

Arthur shook his head. "We had a big row, and now I just don't feel like going back there."

Francis stared him. "How long have you been here?"

Arthur shrugged. "An hour, maybe two. I don't know. I don't want to go back there to face her. I feel ashamed and she's angry, and I'm angry too. It would only end up in another fight."

The Frenchman stirred. "Don't tell me you're planning to spend the night here!"

Arthur laughed bitterly. "Why not? I've slept in worse places. The worst thing that could happen is that I get ill, and that's quite harmless in comparison to the things I have faced before."

"But that's in the past. You're not going to sleep under a flimsy bus stop."

"Oi, don't mock it. It's not flimsy at all", Arthur argued, making Francis roll his eyes.

"Don't try to change the subject! You're not sleeping here. You can bunk at my place. My parents aren't home so they won't question you", Francis said. Arthur scoffed.

"The hell I would-"

"That wasn't an offer, that was an order."

Francis eyes were stern and determined, a strange contrast to the usual laid-back and suave gaze. Arthur recognised the glint; It was the same that appeared every time they had a major argument. Losing was out of the question.

He shot a glare at Francis.

"What if I don't follow your orders?" he asked. Francis smirked. "There's no such option."

* * *

So eventually Francis managed to drag, and quite literally drag, Arthur at his place, even if the other was extremely reculcant. Arthur knew Francis meant good, and he appreciated it, but in a way it felt humilitating. Arthur was too proud, and had a hard time accepting other people's help, and this was no exception.

Arthur had changed his wet clothes and was wearing one of Francis' T-shirts and sweatpants; Even if they were the same height, Arthur was slimmer than Francis and the clothes were loose and baggy on him. The faint scent of lavender and the less-faint stench of some men's perfume, the smell of Francis, were around him, reminding Arthur of his situation.

He was at Francis' house. With Francis. They'd talk.

He cringed.

Francis tugged the hairband and tossed it on his desk, letting his hair flow free, and very ungracefully sat down on the bed next to Arthur. The Frenchman sighed, and Arthur prepared himself to the worst.

"I texted Lydia and told her you're here so she wouldn't have to worry. I told her to let you stay for the night so you could work things out", Francis announced. Arthur nodded. There was a heavy pause, Francis fidgeting.

"About the last time...", Francis said, voice uncharateristically insecure, "I'm sorry."

Arthur stirred, and turned his eyes to Francis. "What?"

"I said I'm sorry."

"I heard that, dolt-"

"Let me speak", Francis cut him off. He exhaled, trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry about the thing. I should've chosen my words better. Or should've been quiet. I don't know. I didn't want to scare you. It's just...", Francis licked his lips, frustration and nervousness on his face. "I don't understand you. And it annoys me. I see through everyone, but you're an enigma. I don't know what I should do with you."

Arthur blinked, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between them, only a few centimeters of air that divided them. "And by that...'not knowing what to do with me'...you mean...?" he asked, eyes fixated in Francis'. There was a pause, broken by Francis' broken chuckle.

"I don't know whether I should kiss you or leave you."

It was said; Francis had admitted it. Francis had fallen for him. Arthur swallowed, eyes never leaving the clear blue orbs that stared him. He wondered, how, why, how had someone like Francis, a gorgeous romantic, fallen for someone like him, a snappy mess, and why, oh why he didn't run away when he should've, because if you don't know what you should do with someone, then you should run, there's no sense staying in oblivion and confusion.

But did it ever feel so wondeful, so great.

The slightest hint of a blush creeped up on Arthur's cheeks.

"I don't want you to leave", he said quietly.

They fell silent. Arthur's heart was beating fast, and he wondered if Francis heard it; A mix of emotions engulfed him, fear, waiting, hope, relief, everything so strong and present Arthur didn't know what he should do. He just wished Francis would answer, or do something. The utter stillness was appalling.

Then Francis smiled.

"I didn't want to leave either", he said, so warm, so perfect, and Arthur thought something broke inside him, as a smile crept up and formed on his face.

"You're an idiot", he said, letting his head fall down. Francis scoffed. "Look who's talking. Do you have any idea how crazy you have driven me?"

"Have I? I haven't noticed anything different in you", Arthur shot, glaring the other blonde. Francis smiled. "Shut up. I don't think we were supposed to do this", he said, gently cupping Arthur's cheek. "You're an arse", he said, leaning forward, their breath mixing; But it was Arthur who closed the distance, their lips meeting for a kiss.

_His drug was working again._

* * *

**...ahahahaahaasobsob ;A; Nine chapters of ruthless shipteasing and then I give you people a kiss. I'm horrible. Next chapter will be the last chapter, so stay tuned! Maybe I'll be nice and give you a little more than that...or not.**


	11. GoodBye Garageland

**This is it.**

* * *

Waking up in a warm bed, someone next to you, had never appealed to Arthur; He hadn't considered himself to be a romantic kind of person, or had denied it, and had thought of it as one of the overrated things newly-weds babble about and think so highly of even if it means nothing. It seemed tacky to him.

But having to wake up next to Francis, body warm and close, felt good. It felt great. It felt safe.

Safe things were important.

Sheets tangled around them, fingers laced together, Francis' hair uncharacteristically messy, his T-shirt that was revealing his stomach, the sweet silence that didn't break; After a long time, Arthur felt safe and happy.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

It was the first thing Arthur said after coming back home and seeing Lydia, tired after a long night. She stared him, completely flat yet eyes storming the same time, and Arthur sighed.

"I was really stupid. I got angry when I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have taken a joint in the first place. I'm sorry."

She didn't answer, she just looked at him. Arthur felt his stomach twist; Had he gone too far? He fidgeted, wondering if he should say something else. But finally, Lydia closed her eyes, exhaling softly, and walked to Arthur, wrapping her arms around him.

"You are stupid", she said, a faint laugh in her voice, "and I'm sorry too."

Arthur hugged her back, feeling how the dark feeling in his chest was being eaten away.

* * *

Arthur's mother might not have been a angel, but for sure she hadn't been the devil either.

Their family had been in situations Arthur would rather forget; too many times had they been broke, too many times had she stolen to feed her children, too many times had she crossed the lines of law, too many times has she disappeared, too many times had they been homeless.

But she had never let them go to the darkest of oblivion.

When they didn't have money, she stole food, and they had never been close to starvation. When she had to choose between her family and the law, she chose family. When she disappeared, she always came back to them. And when they were homeless, she never, ever let them live on the street; She always remembered someone who was short on a favour and made sure they found a roof on top of them.

She hadn't been the best of mothers, but she hadn't let her children down completely either.

For children, the name of the God is Mother; But when that is the only thing you can rely on, the safety that comes from standard stability feels like paradise.

Arthur wished she could've shared the paradise with them.

* * *

The children were asleep already. Arthur and Lydia were watching some old detective show episode from Germany, savouring the silence. Arthur had a hard time keeping his eyes open, but he knew that right after the show would end he'd not feel tired at all, so he decided to keep on watching, even if he couldn't even remember the plot.

"Arthur?" Lydia's voice broke the silence, and Arthur turned to face her.

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip.

"Are you happy?"

He looked at her, thinking for a while. Last time Lydia had asked, he had said he was running away from happiness. But were things like that anymore?

He sighed. "I'm getting there."

She smiled. "Have you talked with Francis?"

He laughed, shrugging. "I guess so."

"You guess so?"

"Yeah, we've talked", Arthur rushed, a slight blush creeping on his cheeks. Lydia smiled even more widely, and Arthur tossed a pillow at her.

"You're a perv!" he laughed. She hummed, revealing her white teeth.

"I didn't say anything", she pointed out, and Arthur stuck out his tongue. Lydia didn't tease him anymore, but smiled like a fucking annoying bastard.

* * *

Eventually episode ended, and Lydia went off to bed. Arthur, however, headed outside, to the usual place, and sat on the cool stone floor of the patio, eyes fixated on the window next door. There was a faint light of the night stand lamp, but it was enough to reveal the shadow that moved in the room, and when the light suddenly flicked off, Arthur couldn't help but smile a little bit.

A few minutes later Francis climbed over the fence, smiling smugly.

"Can't go one day without me?"

"How you know I'm not here just for a smoke?"

"Because you don't have a cigarette with you."

"Maybe I smoked it already, and now I'm enjoying the smell."

"There's no smell here. You're here for me", Francis smiled, and sat down next to Arthur. The other blonde shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, maybe the smell is gone, so I can leave now, you know."

"Shut it. You're being an arse again."

"One knows another-"

Arthur was cut off by a soft kiss that was placed to the corner of his lips, making him blush.

"Oi, no surprise kisses!"

"Why not?"

"They're annoying."

Francis rolled his eyes.

"Fine, I'm going to kiss you now", he said, and before Arthur could say anything Francis was kissing him again, lips soft against Arthur's. He made a small noise of protest, but didn't do a thing to stop Francis; Instead he returned the kiss, a slight smile rising on his face. Eventually Francis broke the kiss, a smug smirk on his face. Arthur frowned.

"What?" he spat. Francis chuckled.

"Nothing, I just kissed you."

"That makes you smirk like that? A boring life you must have lived."

"Not at all, but I kissed _you._ There's a special spice in that", Francis said. Arthur blushed and turned his gaze away. "Special spice up your arse, I say", he muttered.

"Would you like to find out?"

Arthur hit the Frenchman on shoulder.

* * *

"So Rodbert didn't last", Mathias sighed, looking at Gilbert and Roderich, the quarreling ex-couple. Ever since their break-up they had been arguing about everything.

"Rodbert sounds stupid anyway", Arthur muttered, not really interested in the conversation but contributed anyway.

"Better than GilRod", Mathias stated and lied down on the grass. Francis exhaled heavily.

"Love is a quirky thing", he mused, a dreamy look on his face. Arthur scoffed.

"At least with those. I bet Elisaveta had something to do with their break up", Mathias said. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"For fucks sake, how could she have contributed to this? She was euphoric when they got together!"

"Ah, but those three are always having some drama! I mean, Gilbert had a crush on Liz, but then she began to date Roddy. During LizRod Gil was really jealous, and when they broke up everyone was convinced Gil would make a move on Liz. But instead, he went to Roderich!" Mathias explained, excitement in his eyes. Francis facepalmed.

"Mathias, stop it-"

"Don't interrupt me! Now, if there is any logic in this, next thing will be Lizbert, and after that they realise they are meant to be together, all three of them, and we'll have LizRodbert!" Mathias exlaimed, smiling widely. Arthur sighed.

"You're an idiot", he hissed. Mathias pouted.

"Hey, I finally accepted the coupling thing in the group. And if there's any logic in it, there should always be three couples! That's the rule!"

Arthur glanced Francis, meeting his blue eyes. A slight blush rose on their cheeks. Mathias noticed this, and even if he isn't the sharpest pen in the pencil case, he was smart enough to understand.

"Hey", he said, "you two are shagging!"

Arthur is a very quick person.

And it's a hilarious sight when Mathias rolls on the ground in pain holding his lower regions, uttering Danish nonsense.

* * *

Even if "LizGil" was to happen, it would take a while, because Elisaveta was far too happy to notice anyone besides Francis and Arthur; Her dreams had been fulfilled, and she had found paradise.

Arthur was a gentleman, and he did not hit girls, even if his fist would've been thrilled to meet Elisaveta's head.

* * *

"So you never smoked the joint", Willem said, voice low. Arthur shook his head.

"Had to dispose it. Sorry. Would've returned it if I could've."

Willem shrugged.

"I have plenty in stock. Don't worry about it. You owe me one, though."

"I know."

"Did it help?" Willem asked, glancing Arthur. He laughed, not bothering to answer the question. Something that resembles a smile flashed on Willem's face, and he leaned back, taking a joint from his pocket and placing it between his lips.

"Told you it would", he said, and Arthur swore he could hear a hint of smugness in that voice.

* * *

Trust is something Arthur has always been looking for, but never quite found it. He had to trust in his mother, he didn't have a choice, and eventually even that little trust he had wilted and died. He trusted in Lydia to a certain point, knowing it to be better that she didn't know everything, and that she was just a beginner, not really knowing what to do when five children are suddenly shoved at her and she's told to take care of them. He trusted in his siblings, but they were just children, and they could not bring him the safety he had always desired.

The only person he could trust in had been himself; It had been always like that, and then, with no warning, some blonde poofbag Frenchie appears and flips his world, making him loose the one thing he has always relied on, himself.

Something lost, something gained; Now Arthur trusted in himself on a whole new level, and trusted in another person, with no hard feelings. He could rely on Francis.

There was no rush, there was nothing else behind their actions; It wasn't like the times in the school bathroom when Arthur had been comforting a sort-of-friend, it wasn't like the time when he had been drunk and that one person had been nice enough. It was genuine, something beautiful and pleasuring, something they both wanted because of the connection, because it was them, and not because they had to be cheered up or something.

Francis' lips brushed his collarbone, placing soft, fragile kisses here and there. His naked form seemed to glow in the dim room, the trained muscles being drawn by shadows. Arthur traced his spine, memorizing the curves. Francis adjusted himself better in Arthur's lap, brushing himself against Arthur's, eliciting a breathy moan from both of them.

The blue eyes found Arthur's green, strong and determined.

"Ready?" Francis asked, voice low and husky. Arthur grinned.

"No need to ask."

* * *

Alfred makes a shitty tree.

Not that Arthur would tell that to him, of course.

Matthew's and Alfred's school play, Red Riding Hood, was quite ridiculous, at least for their family. The twins were assigned to play trees, and while Matthew managed to complete his task rather well, standing still and quiet, Alfred was less successful, constantly whispering to his twin, fidgeting and wawing to Arthur the others. Sydney and Jett were quite proud of their big brothers, though it bothered Sydney that Matthew didn't pay any attention to them.

"It's just because his in characted", Arthur explained, and Sydney nodded, though it looked like she didn't understand what it meant. Nevertheless, she accepted the explanation, and followed the course of the play, or Alfred, whichever was more interesting.

Probably Alfred. Trees that make funny faces are rather interesting.

* * *

There's still that one cigarette Arthur has incase of a bad day.

* * *

The TV was on again, another one of those German detective shows going on, and Lydia and Arthur were following it lazily, debating whether they should take a nap or just go sleep. They hadn't said much during the show, either because it was so mesmerising or they were simply too tired.

Arthur bit his lip, a slight hint of a smile on his face.

"Hey Lydia", he said, arousing her attention.

"Yeah?"

"I'm happy."

* * *

**It's done. That was the end. All I can say is, wow. I've never written anything this long and this fast; Whopping 36000 words in eight months! It was fun to write this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. I can't thank you enough for following, favouriting and reviewing (and bearing with the shiptease). **

**My intention was to make a fic that should be read twice to understand it fully. The things that happened in this AU but never made into the actual fic are important (or not, some are just silly), and I'll list the things here so you can go like "OH...OH."**

**-Lovino has a crush on Emilie (Monaco), who is Francis' younger sister. Francis and Lovino don't get along that well, so Lovino never had the guts to tell Emilie how he felt. That's why he became ladies man.**

**-Tino is slightly homophobic, because another guy who he thought of as a friend was crushing on him (You can guess who) and he didn't return his feelings. Tino's games made the other guy think Tino might have a thing for him, too. They're no longer friends.**

**-Willem is very protective of his sister, and Manon knows this. It irritates her, and she does everything she can to piss him off. Dating Antonio annoys Willem very much, because the Spaniard is too touchy-feely and oblivious.**

**-Gilbert and Mathias once got drunk together and ended up jacking each other off. This case was bound to be forgotten, but it ended up with Gilbert exploring his sexuality and Mathias becoming a pervert.**

**-Arthur's mother died in the shooting, but it wasn't accidental. She felt bad because of what she had done, and decided it would be better for all of them if she was dead. Before this she wrote a letter to her children, but it was never found out.**

**Also, here's a list of the songs that inspired the titles:**

**Claws in my brain - The Vibrators**

**Come as you are - Nirvana**

**When the evening comes - The Undead**

**Ignorance is bliss - The Ramones**

**A different kind of tension - Buzzcocks**

**Secrets - The Runaways**

**Punishment fits the crime - The Ramones**

**Have you ever seen the rain - The Ramones**

**Every day I die a little - The Vibrators**

**No one is innocent - Die Toten Hosen feat. Ronnie Biggs**

**GoodBye Garageland - Die Toten Hosen**

**I guess that's it. Thank you for reading!**


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